Proceed, if you are as strong as I;
Or go back, if you are as wise as I.
Beginning and end, head and tail, all is fused in one
In the Crown of All Things. Thus are life and death inseparable.
I recited it from memory.
“And what does that give us?” Gesar asked almost jovially.
“‘Go back, if you are as wise as I,’” I repeated. “There is some kind of detour, an alternative route to the seventh level. You don’t have to go head-on at the barrier.”
Gesar nodded again. “That’s right. That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
Semyon gave me a look of sympathy. It was clear enough. In the Watch, things work like they do in the army: You suggested it, now you do it.
“Just don’t overestimate my intellectual capabilities,” I muttered. “I’ll think about it, of course. And I’ll ask Svetlana to think about it too. But so far nothing comes to mind. Maybe we should delve into the archives?”
“We will,” Gesar promised. “But there is another way to go.”
“And I’m the one who has to go there,” I said. “Am I right?”
“Anton, your daughter’s in danger,” Gesar said simply.
I shrugged. “I surrender. OK, I’m ready. Where do I go? Into the mouth of a volcano? Under the Arctic ice? Out into space?”
“You know very well that there’s nothing we can do out in space,” Gesar said with a frown. “There is one hope... not a very big one. Perhaps one of Merlin’s associates might guess what he had in mind.”
“We’d have to find a living contemporary... ,” I began.
“I’m his contemporary, more or less,” Gesar said in a bored voice. “But unfortunately I was not acquainted with Merlin. Neither when he was a Light One, nor when he was a Dark One. Why are you looking at me like that? Yes, it is possible. Sometimes. For Higher Ones. That’s not the point... I hope none of you are planning to change sides?”
“Boris Ignatievich, don’t drag it out,” I said.
“Merlin was friendly... insofar as that was possible... with an Other whom I knew by the name of Rustam.”
I exchanged glances with Semyon. He shrugged. Olga looked puzzled too.
“He had many names,” Gesar continued. “He used to be in the Watch too. A very, very long time ago. He and I were friends once. We helped each other in battle many times... saved each other’s lives many times. Then we became enemies. Even though he was and still is a Light One.”
Gesar paused. It seemed as if he didn’t really want to remember all this.
“He is still alive, and he lives somewhere in Uzbekistan. I don’t know exactly where; his strength is equal to mine and he can camouflage himself. He hasn’t served in the Watch for a very long time. He is most probably living as an ordinary human being. You will have to find him, Anton. Find him and persuade him to help us.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Uzbekistan? Easy as ABC. A—comb the whole place. B—winkle out a magician in hiding who’s more powerful than I am—”
“I’m not saying it’s simple,” Gesar admitted.
“And C—persuade him to help us.”
“That part’s a bit easier. The point is that he saved my life six times. But I saved his seven times.” Gesar chuckled. “He owes me. Even if he still hates me as much as he used to. If you find him, he’ll agree.”
There was no confidence in Gesar’s voice, and everyone could sense that.
“But it’s not even certain that he knows anything!” I said. “And is he still alive?”
“He was alive ten years ago,” said Gesar. “My assistant, the devona, recognized him. And he told him about his son Alisher.”
“Magnificent,” I said with a nod. “Absolutely wonderful. I suppose I have to follow tradition and set out unarmed and completely alone?”
“No. You will set out fully equipped, with a thick wad of money and a bag full of useful artifacts.”
It was several seconds before I realized that the boss was being perfectly serious.
“And not alone,” Gesar added. “Alisher will go with you. In the East, as you know, there are more important things than power and money. It is far more important for someone who is known and trusted to vouch for you.”
“Alisher too?” Ilya sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Gesar said, without even the slightest note of apology in his voice. “We must regard this as a military emergency. Especially since that’s just what it is.”
I don’t often get to go back home in the middle of the day. If you’ve been out on Watch duty, then you come home early in the morning. If you have an ordinary working day to get through, you won’t get back before seven. Even with the ability to foresee traffic jams on the roads—what good is that if the jams are everywhere?
And naturally, even without the help of magic, any wife knows that a husband doesn’t come back early from work without good reason.
“Daddy,” Nadya announced. Naturally, she was standing by the door. She can tell I’m coming just as soon as I approach the entrance to the building—that’s if she’s not busy with some important childish business of her own. If she’s feeling bored, she knows from the moment I leave the office.
I tried to pick my daughter up. But she was clearly far more interested in the cartoons on TV, a squeaky “La-la-la, la-la, la-la-la” coming from the sitting room. She had done her duty as a daughter: Daddy had been met when he came back from work and nothing interesting had been discovered in his hands or his pockets.
So little Nadya deftly slipped out of my arms and made a dash for the TV.
I took off my shoes, tossed the Autopilot magazine that I had bought on the way home onto the shoe stand, and walked through into the sitting room, patting my daughter on the head along the way. Nadya waved her arms about—I was blocking her view of the screen, on which a blue moose with only one antler was hurtling downhill on skis.
Svetlana glanced out of the kitchen and looked at me intently. She said, “Hmm!” and disappeared again.
Abandoning any attempts to fulfill my paternal functions until better times, I walked into the kitchen. Svetlana was making soup. I’ve never been able to understand why women spend so much time at the stove. What takes so long to do there? Toss the meat or the chicken into the water, switch on the burner, and it boils itself. An hour later drop in the macaroni or potatoes, add a few vegetables—and your food’s ready. Well, you mustn’t forget to salt it—that’s the most difficult part.
“Will you pack your own suitcase?” Svetlana asked without turning around.
“Did Gesar call?”
“No.”
“Did you look into the future?”
“I promised you I wouldn’t do that without permission...” Svetlana paused for a moment because I had gone up to her from behind and kissed her on the neck. “Or unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Then why did you ask about the suitcase?”
“Anton, if you come home from work during the day, then I go to bed alone in the evening. They’re either sending you out on watch or away somewhere on an assignment. But you were on watch two days ago, and the city’s calm at the moment... .”
Nadya laughed in the sitting room. I glanced in through the door: The moose on skis was hurtling wide-eyed straight toward a line of small and obviously young animals, who were walking along the edge of a precipice. Oh, it was going to be a real disaster!
“Sveta, are you sure Nadya should be watching cartoons like that?”
“She watches the news,” Svetlana replied calmly. “Don’t avoid the issue. What’s happened?”
“I’m going to Samarkand.”
“Your assignments do take you to some interesting places,” Svetlana said. She scooped up a spoonful of soup, blew on it, a
nd tasted it. “Not enough salt... . What’s happened out there?”
“Nothing. Nothing yet.”
“The poor Uzbeks. Once you get there, something’s bound to happen.”
“Gesar held a meeting today. With the Higher Ones and the first-level... .”
I told Svetlana briefly about everything we had discussed. To my surprise, there was no reaction to the idea that from now on Nadya would be guarded in secret by two Light and two Dark Magicians. Or rather, the reaction was exactly what Olga had forecast it would be.
“Well, good for Gesar! I was thinking about ringing him myself... to ask for protection.”
“You’re serious? You’ll allow it?”
Svetlana looked at me and nodded. Then she added, “While I’m with her, Nadya’s in no danger. Believe me, I’ll make mincemeat of any three Higher Ones. But it’s best to take precautions. When’s your flight?”
“In five hours. From Sheremetievo.”
“Semyon will get you there in an hour. So you still have two hours left. You can have something to eat, then we’ll pack your things. How long are you going to be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how much underwear and how many pairs of socks shall I put in?” Svetlana asked reasonably. “I can’t imagine you washing anything while you’re away.”
“I’ll buy new ones and throw the old ones away. Gesar promised to give me heaps of money.”
“I wonder how much ‘heaps’ is for him,” Svetlana replied doubtfully. “I’ll pack five pair of underwear. Sit down at the table, I’m serving the soup.”
“Daddy!” Nadya called from the sitting room.
“What, my little daughter?” I answered.
“Daddy, will Uncle Afandi give me the beads for a present?”
Svetlana and I looked at each other, then walked quickly into the sitting room. Our daughter was still watching the cartoons. The screen showed a group of different-colored animals gathered around a campfire.
“What uncle do you mean, Nadya?”
“Uncle Afandi,” said our daughter again, without looking away from the screen.
“Who’s Afandi?” Svetlana asked patiently.
“What beads?” I asked.
“The man Daddy’s going to see,” Nadya told us, with that how-stupid-you-grown-ups-are! intonation. “And the beads are blue. They’re beautiful.”
“How do you know who Daddy’s going to see?” asked Svetlana, continuing the interrogation.
“You were just talking about it,” Nadya replied calmly.
“No, we weren’t,” I objected. “We were talking about me going on an assignment to Uzbekistan. That’s a beautiful country in the East. Gesar used to live there once. Do you remember Uncle Gesar? But we didn’t say anything about an Afandi.”
“I must have misheard, then,” Nadya replied. “There isn’t any uncle.”
Svetlana shook her head and looked at me reproachfully. I shrugged: OK, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have butted in. Mommy would have got a lot more out of her.
“But the beads are real anyway,” Nadya suddenly added inconsistently. “You bring them, all right?”
There was no point in asking any more about Uncle Afandi. Nadya had had “fits” of clairvoyance ever since she was three, if not two. But she was absolutely unaware that she was prophesying, and as soon as you started asking “How do you know that?” she clammed up.
“My fault,” I confessed. “Sorry, Sveta.”
We went back to the kitchen. Svetlana poured me some soup without saying a word, sliced the bread, and handed me a spoon. It sometimes seems to me that she plays the role of a perfectly ordinary wife with emphatic irony. But after all, it was her choice. Gesar would be absolutely delighted if Svetlana came back to the Watch.
“Rustam has had a lot of names... is that what Gesar said?” Svetlana asked thoughtfully.
“Uh-huh,” I said, slurping my soup.
“We can assume that now he’s called Afandi.”
“Anything’s possible.” I wasn’t exactly counting on it, but in my situation I couldn’t afford to ignore even the slimmest lead. “I’ll ask around.”
“It’s good that Alisher will be with you,” Svetlana observed. “You let him do the talking as often as possible. The East is a subtle business.”
“Now, there’s an original thought... ,” I said sourly. “Sorry. I’ve been hearing wise thoughts about the East all day long today. The rivers of eloquence have already flooded the lake of my awareness, O Turkish delight of my heart!”
“Daddy, bring back some Turks and some delight!” my daughter called out immediately.
I didn’t meet Alisher often at work. He preferred working in the field—he was always out on patrol and usually only appeared in the office in the morning, with his eyes red from lack of sleep. I once heard that he was having an affair with some girl from the accounts department, and I knew he was a seventh-level Other, but apart from that I knew very little about him. He was naturally reserved, and I don’t like to force my friendship on anyone.
However, Semyon seemed to be on friendlier terms with him. When I went down and got into the car, Semyon was just finishing telling a joke. As I sat beside him, he was leaning back over his seat and saying, “All right, Daddy, let’s go the long way around. Bring me a little scarlet flower, please!”
Alisher laughed first and then held his hand out to me.
“Hi, Anton.”
“Hi, Alisher.” I shook his hand and passed my bag back to him. “Dump it on the backseat, I don’t want to bother with the trunk.”
“How’s Sveta? Did she scold you?” Semyon asked as he drove off.
“No, of course not. She wished me luck, fed me a delicious dinner, and gave me heaps of useful advice.”
“A good wife always keeps her husband happy,” Semyon declared cheerfully.
“You’re in a good mood today,” I remarked. “Is Gesar sending you to Samarkand too?”
“As if he would,” Semyon said with a histrionic sigh. “Listen, lads, why are you going to Samarkand? The capital’s Binkent, I remember that for certain!”
“Tashkent,” I corrected him.
“Nah, Binkent,” said Semyon. “Or isn’t it? Ah, I remember! The town’s called Shash!”
“Semyon, you’re not old enough to remember Binkent,” Alisher scoffed. “Binkent and Shash were ages ago—only Gesar remembers that. But we’re flying to Samarkand because that’s where the oldest Light Other who works in a Watch lives. The Watch in Tashkent is bigger, they have all the swank of a capital city, but most of them are young. Even their boss is younger than you are.”
“Well, how about that... ,” said Semyon, shaking his head. “Incredible. The East—and everyone in the Watches is young?”
“In the East the old men don’t like to fight. The old men like to watch beautiful girls, eat pilaf, and play backgammon,” Alisher replied seriously.
“Do you often go home?” Semyon asked. “To see your family and friends?”
“I haven’t been there even once in eight years.”
“Why’s that?” Semyon asked in surprise. “Don’t you miss your home at all?”
“I haven’t got a home, Semyon. Or any family. And a devona’s son doesn’t have any friends.”
There was an awkward silence. Semyon drove without speaking. Eventually I just had to ask, “Alisher, if this isn’t too personal a question... Your father, was he a man? Or an Other?”
“A devona is a servant whom a powerful magician creates for himself.” Alisher’s voice was as steady as if he were giving a lecture. “The magician finds some halfwit who has no family and fills him with Power from the Twilight. He pumps him full of pure energy... and the result is a stupid, but very healthy man who possesses
magical abilities... No, he’s not quite a man anymore. But he’s not an Other—all of his power is borrowed, inserted into him by the magician at some time. A devona serves his master faithfully, he can work miracles... but his head still doesn’t work any better than it did before. Usually the magician chooses people who are mentally retarded, or have Down syndrome—they’re not aggressive and they’re very devoted. The power inserted into them gives them good health and a long life.”
We didn’t say anything. Neither of us had expected such a frank answer from Alisher.
“The common people think a devona is possessed by spirits,” he went on. “And that’s almost true: It’s like taking an empty, cracked vessel and giving it new content. Only, instead of intelligence it is usually filled with devotion. But Gesar’s not like all the others. Not even like other Light Ones. He cured my father. Not completely... even he can’t do absolutely anything. At one time my father was a total idiot. I think he suffered from imbecility—obviously owing to some kind of organic damage to the brain. Gesar healed my father’s body, and in time he acquired normal human reason. He remembered that he had once been a complete imbecile. He knew that if Gesar didn’t fill him with fresh Power regularly, his body would reject his reason again. But he didn’t serve Gesar out of fear. He said he would give his life for Gesar because he had helped him to become aware. To become a man. And also, of course, because a mindless fool like him now had a wife and a son. He was very afraid that I would grow up an idiot. But it was all right. Only... only the people remember everything. That my father was a devona, that he had lived too long in this world, that once he was an imbecile who couldn’t even wipe his own nose—they remembered all that. My mother’s family rejected her when she left to join my father. And they didn’t acknowledge me, either. They forbade their children to play with me. I am the son of a devona. The son of a man who should have lived the life of an animal. I have nowhere to go back to. My home is here now. My job is to do what Gesar tells me to do.”
“Wow...” Semyon said quietly. “That’s a tough deal... really tough.” Then he subtly changed tack. “I remember how we drove back those counterrevolutionary bandits, the basmaches. You don’t mind me saying that, do you?”
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