All I still had to do was distribute the rings and the wands. I didn’t think about that for too long either. I nudged Afandi awake and asked him to put on the rings. He exclaimed “Ah!” in delight, put the rings on his left hand, admired them-and nodded off again.
I gave the wands to Alisher, and he put them in the breast pocket of his shirt without saying a word. They stuck out like Parker or Mont Blanc ball-point pens, no less elegant and almost as deadly. I say almost because a single stroke of a boss’s pen could kill more people than those battle wands ever could.
“I’ll get some sleep,” I told Alisher.
He didn’t say anything for a while. The jeep was slowly making its way up the rocky track, which had been climbed by donkeys far more often than by four wheels. The beams of the headlights swung from left to right and right to left, alternately picking out a steep rocky cliff and a sheer drop with a river roaring at the bottom.
“Sleep,” said Alisher. “But take a look at the probability lines first. The road’s really bad.”
“I wouldn’t even call it a road,” I said. I closed my eyes and looked into the Twilight. Into the immediate future, where the sinuous, interwoven lines of probability led.
I didn’t like the picture I saw. There were too many lines that broke off abruptly and ended at the bottom of the ravine.
“Alisher, stop. You’re too exhausted to drive through the mountains in the dark. Let’s wait until morning.”
Alisher shook his head stubbornly. “No, I can sense that we have to hurry.”
I could sense that too, so I didn’t argue.
“Shall I drive?” I suggested.
“I don’t think you’re any wider awake than I am, Anton. Give me a blast, will you?”
I sighed. I don’t like using magic to drive away sleep and tiredness, to sharpen the senses. Not because of the negative consequences (there aren’t any; get a good sleep afterward, and you’re fine). That’s not the problem. The problem is that very soon you stop relying on your usual senses and start using a constant feed of magical energy, walking around hyped-up all the time, like a manic-depressive in the manic phase. Everything you do goes well, and you’re a welcome guest in any company, a bright spark, a jester. But sooner or later you get used to it, you want to be even livelier, even wittier, have even more energy. You increase the flow of Power stimulating your nerves. And so it goes, until you discover that you’re spending all the Power that you are capable of processing on maintaining an artificial level of vivacity. And you are simply afraid to stop.
Addiction to magic is no different from ordinary drug addiction. Except that only Others suffer from it.
“Give me a blast,” Alisher asked me again. He stopped the car, put on the hand brake, threw his head back, and closed his eyes.
I put one hand on his face and the other on the short-cropped top of his head and concentrated. I imagined the stream of Power moving through my body and starting to seep out through my palms, soaking into Alisher’s head, running along his nerves like cold fire, sparking across the synapses, jolting every neuron… No special spells were needed, I was working with pure Power. The most important thing here was a clear understanding of the physiological process.
“That’s enough,” Alisher said in a fresher voice. “That feels really good. I’d just like a bite to eat.”
“Just a moment.” I leaned over the seat into the hatchback. My instincts had not misled me: There were two boxes of cola in plastic bottles and several boxes of chocolate bars. “Will you have some cola?”
“What?” Alisher exclaimed. “Cola? Sure! And I’ll have some of those bars too! God bless America!”
“Isn’t that a bit too much just for inventing a sickly sweet lemonade substitute and highly calorific candy?”
Instead of answering, Alisher pressed a button on the stereo console and a second later the speakers started playing a rhythmic sequence of chords.
“It’s for the rock-and-roll, too,” he said imperturbably.
We sat there awhile eating chocolate bars and washing them down with cola. All Others have a sweet tooth. Still snoring, Afandi smacked his lips and reached out his hand. I put a chocolate bar in his fingers that were now decorated with the rings. Afandi munched the candy bar without waking up. He carried on snoring.
“We’ll be there at three o’clock,” Alisher told me. “Are we going to wait until morning?”
“The night is our time,” I replied. “We’ll wake old man Rustam up. He doesn’t work very hard anyway.”
“It’s strange,” said Alisher. “Odd. Does he live there like a hermit, in a cave?”
“Why do you think that?” I asked, and pondered for a moment. “Maybe he grazes goats or sheep. Or he keeps bees up in the mountains. Or he has a weather station.”
“Or an observatory for watching the stars…What was that strange ring you put on Afandi’s hand?”
“You mean the one with the ruby? Protection against a vacuum.”
“Very exotic,” said Alisher, sucking on his plastic bottle. “I can’t remember a case of an Other being killed in a vacuum.”
“I can.”
Alisher said nothing for a few seconds, then he nodded and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Does it still bother you?”
“We were friends…almost. As far as a Light One and a Dark One can be.”
“Not just a Dark One. Kostya was a vampire.”
“He never killed anyone,” I said simply. “And it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t grow up as a human being. Gennady made him a vampire.”
“Who’s that?”
“His father.”
“What a bastard.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge. The boy wasn’t even a year old when he ended up in the hospital. Double pneumonia and allergies to antibiotics. Basically, the parents were told that their son wouldn’t survive. You know, there are some wonderful doctors who shouldn’t even be allowed to practice as vets, for the poor cows’ sake: ‘Your little boy’s going to die, prepare yourselves for that. You’re still young, you can have another child…’ Of course, they couldn’t have another. Kostya was Gennady’s posthumous child. After initiation, vampires retain the ability to impregnate and conceive for quite a long time; it’s one of nature’s strange jokes. But they can only have one child. After that, the vampire becomes sterile.”
“Yes, that’s what I heard,” Alisher said, nodding.
“So Gennady had a talk with his wife. She was a human being. She knew her husband was a vampire…there are families like that. But he hadn’t killed anyone, he was a very law-abiding vampire, she loved him… Anyway, he bit her. Initiated her. Their plan was for the mother to initiate the son. But she was still metamorphosing, and the baby started dying. Gennady bit him, too, and Kostya got well. That is, he died, of course. Died as a human being. But he recovered from his pneumonia. The doctor started running around, crowing that it was all due to her remarkable talent. Gennady once admitted to me that he almost went for her throat when she started hinting that the right thing to do would be to reward her for the miraculous recovery.”
Alisher was silent for a while. Then he said, “All the same, they’re vampires. It would have been better if the boy had died.”
“Well, he did die,” I said. I suddenly found this conversation disgusting. Kostya had been a very normal child, except that once a week he had to drink preserved blood. He loved playing football, reading fairy tales and science fiction, and then he had decided to study biology, so that he could analyze the nature of vampirism and teach vampires how to manage without human blood.
But Alisher wouldn’t understand me. He was a true watchman. A genuine Light One. But I tried to understand even the Dark Ones. Even vampires. To understand and forgive…or at least understand. Forgiving was the hardest thing. Sometimes forgiving was the hardest thing in the whole world.
The telephone in my pocket rang and I took it out. Aha. An even gray glow.
“Hi, Edga
r,” I said.
After a short pause Edgar asked, “Has your phone identified my number?”
“No, I guessed.”
“You’re powerful,” Edgar replied in a strange voice. “Anton, I’m already in Samarkand. Where are all of you?”
“All of us?”
“You, Alisher, and Afandi.” The Inquisitor clearly hadn’t wasted the last hour or so. “Well, you’ve created a fine mess here…”
“We have?” I protested, outraged.
“All right, maybe not just you,” Edgar acknowledged. “But you too. Why did you take the car from the director of the market?”
“We didn’t take it, we bought it. In accordance with the clauses concerning the need to confiscate means of transport in an emergency. Shall I recite the relevant paragraphs?”
“Anton, cool it,” Edgar said quickly. “No one’s accusing you of anything. But the situation really is pretty bleak. To cover it up, we’ll have to put out a story about the elimination of a large gang of terrorists. And you know how we hate disguising our own…our own failures as human crimes.”
“Edgar, I understand you,” I said. “But what has this got to do with us? I have personal business with an Other who doesn’t serve in the Watches. I flew here unofficially and I have a perfect right to move around the country.”
“By virtue of the emergency situation, only with the knowledge and under the surveillance of a member of a Watch,” Edgar corrected me.
“Well, Afandi’s with us.”
Edgar sighed. I thought I heard someone say something in the background.
“OK, Anton. Deal with your personal business…which the Inquisition will have to deal with afterward. Only, don’t go driving through the mountains at night, you’ll end up at the bottom of a precipice.”
To be honest, I was actually touched by his concern.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll rest until morning.”
“OK, Anton,” Edgar repeated. After a pause he muttered rather awkwardly, “It was good talking to you…despite everything.”
I put the phone away and said, “He’s strange, that Edgar. He was strange as a Dark One, too. But when he became an Inquisitor, he changed completely.”
“You know, I think that sooner or later you’ll end up as an Inquisitor yourself,” Alisher said in a very humdrum voice.
I thought about what he’d said and shook my head. “No, there’s no way. My wife and daughter are Higher Light Ones. They don’t take guys like that into the Inquisition.”
“I’m very glad that’s the case,” Alisher said seriously. “Well, then, shall we go?”
And at that very moment the mountains shook. Gently at first, as if the strength of the rocks was being tested. Then more and more powerfully.
“An earthquake!” Afandi howled, waking up instantly. “Out of the car!”
When he wanted, he could be very serious indeed. We jumped out of the jeep, walked a bit higher up the track, and froze. The mountains were shuddering. Small stones began slithering down the slope and showering onto us. Alisher and I automatically erected a joint protective dome. Afandi did his bit too-he set one hand above his eyes and started surveying the night in search of unknown danger.
And he actually spotted something.
“Look over there!” he shouted, jumping up and down and reaching out his hand. “That way! That way!”
We turned around, keeping the Shield above our heads: The rocks bounced off it with a clatter. We followed Afandi’s gaze and enhanced our night vision (actually, after the stimulation I’d given him, Alisher didn’t really need to do that).
And we saw the next mountain, covered with thick forest, being reduced to rubble.
It looked as if mighty hammer blows were being struck from within the mountain crest. The mountain was repeatedly jolted and waterfalls of small stones, avalanches of boulders, and entire groves of trees showered down off it, rapidly filling up the ravines. In a few minutes the kilometer-high peak was transformed into a plateau of crushed stone and woodchips from the shattered tree trunks.
Then I got the idea of looking at the mountain through the Twilight.
And I saw a vortex of Power spinning above the disaster zone.
It was either the vortex of a curse that had been put on the place or some special kind of spell that caused an earthquake. I didn’t know which. But there was no doubt at all that the catastrophe had been caused by magic.
“They missed,” said Alisher. “Anton…did you talk to Edgar?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure the Inquisition doesn’t have any beefs to settle with you?”
I gulped to swallow the lump that had risen in my throat. Beefs with the Inquisition were very, very bad news.
“The Inquisition wouldn’t have missed…,” I began, and then broke off. I took out my cell phone and looked at it through the Twilight. Inside its cocoon of plastic, metal, and silicon, the SIM card was pulsating with a blue light. Typical behavior for a working amulet.
“I think I know what happened,” I said, keying in a number. “And I don’t think it had anything to do with the Inquisition.”
“Hello, Anton,” Gesar said, as if I hadn’t woken him. But then, it was still evening in Moscow.
“Gesar, I need to have a word with someone from the European tribunal. Immediately.”
“With one of the Masters?” Gesar asked.
“Well, not the assistant night watchman!”
“Wait a moment,” Gesar said calmly. “And don’t cut the call off afterward.”
I had to wait for about three minutes. All that time we stood there, watching the vortex of Power calming down. The sight was like something out of a fairy tale. That earthquake had probably used up the energy of some ancient and powerful amulet. Like the ones they held in the special vaults at the Inquisition.
“My name is Eric,” I heard a strong, confident voice say. “What can I do for you, Light One?”
“Mr. Eric,” I said, without bothering to inquire what position he held in the Inquisition-they really don’t like revealing their hierarchy. “At the moment I am close to the city of Samarkand in Uzbekistan. We have an emergency on our hands. Could you tell me if the Inquisition sent its staff member Edgar here?”
“Edgar?” Eric asked thoughtfully. “Which one?”
“To be quite honest, I never knew his surname,” I admitted. “A former member of the Moscow Day Watch, he moved to the Inquisition after the trial of Igor Teplov in Prague…”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Eric said more brightly. “Edgar. Of course. No, we haven’t sent him to Samarkand.”
“Then who have you sent?”
“I don’t know if you are aware of the fact, Anton,” Eric said with undisguised irony, “but the European Bureau deals with Europe. And also with Russia, owing to its ambivalent geographic location. We don’t have either the resources or the desire to take on events in Asia, where the country of Uzbekistan is located. You need to contact the Asian Bureau, which at the moment is located in Beijing. Shall I give you the number?”
“No, thank you,” I replied. “And where is Edgar now?”
“On leave. For”-there was a brief pause-“for a month already. Is there anything else?”
“A word of advice,” I said, unable to restrain myself. “Check where Inquisitor Edgar was during the events in Edinburgh that you already know about.”
“Just a moment, Anton,” said Eric, finally losing his cool. “Are you trying to tell me-”
“That’s all I have to say,” I blurted into the phone.
Gesar who, of course, had listened to every single word of the conversation, immediately cut Eric off and said, “Congratulations, Anton. We’ve figured out who one of the three is. You’ve figured it out.”
“Thanks for the SIM card,” I replied. “If it hadn’t distorted my location signal, I’d already be dead.”
“It’s actually intended to make your voice sound convincing when you talk to peopl
e on the phone,” said Gesar. “The location malfunction is a side effect. I just can’t seem to get rid of it. All right, carry on the good work! We’ll get straight on to Edgar.”
I looked at the phone pensively, then cut the connection and put it in my pocket. Had Gesar been joking about making my voice sound convincing, or was it the truth?
“Edgar,” Alisher said in a satisfied voice. “So it was Edgar! I knew Dark Ones couldn’t be trusted. Not even Inquisitors.”
Chapter 6
WE DROVE ONTO THE PLATEAU OF THE DEMONS AT HALF PAST THREE IN the morning. On the way we passed an aul, a tiny settlement in the mountains-fewer than ten small clay-walled houses set back a little way from the road. There was a bonfire on the only small street, with people crowding around it-ten or twenty of them, no more than that. The earthquake had evidently frightened the inhabitants of the aul and they were afraid to spend the night in their houses.
Alisher was still driving. I was alternately dozing on the backseat and thinking about Edgar.
What had made him go against the Watches and the Inquisition? Why had he broken every possible taboo and involved human beings in his machinations?
I couldn’t understand it. Edgar was a careerist, like all Dark Ones, of course he was. He could kill if necessary. He could do absolutely anything at all, Dark Ones had no moral prohibitions. But to do something that set him in opposition to all Others-that could only be explained by insanity or a thirst for Power. And then, Edgar had so much Baltic restraint and reserve. Spending decades crawling up the career ladder was easy. But staking everything on a single throw of the dice?
What had he found out about the Crown of All Things? What information had he dug up in the archives of the Inquisition? Who else had he managed to involve? The Dark vampire and the Light Healer-who were they? Where were they from? Why had they conspired with an Inquisitor? What goals could a Dark One, a Light One, and an Inquisitor have in common?
But then, the goal wasn’t too hard to figure out. The goal was always one and the same: Power. Power in all its forms. You could say that we Light Ones were different. That we didn’t need Power for Power’s sake, but only in order to help people. And that was probably true. But we still needed Power. Every Other is familiar with that sweet temptation, that delicious sensation of his own strength: the vampire, sucking on a young girl’s throat; the healer, saving a dying child with a wave of his hand. What difference did it make what it was for? Every Other would find a way to apply the might that he acquired.
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