Day Watch

by Sergei Lukyanenko

Story Two Chapter two

  For the next two days and nights absolutely nothing interesting happened. I wandered around Moscow, making unexpected purchases and practicing my new abilities, trying not to make it too obvious. I switched on my cell phone, without having the slightest idea why¡ªI had nowhere to ring and there was no one to ring me. I bought a mini-disk player and spent a couple of hours putting together a disk for it from the catalog, looking for old and new songs that triggered some response in my recalcitrant memory. I gradually got used to the changes in Moscow, which behind the tinsel glitter of its bright, festive neon had remained just as dirty and scruffy as ever. The hotel staff all said hello to me, and they seemed to have organized a line for the right to serve me¡ªI was still living like a man who didn't acknowledge any bills worth less than a hundred rubles. But strangely enough, I was still careful to collect my correct change in the shops, even the little nickel-plated coins that are no good for anything except maybe souvenirs for foreigners.

  During those two days I only met Others three times: Once in the metro, entirely by chance; once at night, when I ran into a drunk witch trying unsuccessfully to fly up to a third-floor balcony because she'd lost her keys and didn't have enough Power left to go through the Twilight. I gave the witch a hand. And once during the day I was taken for an uninitiated Other by a rather powerful Light magician¡ªI even remembered his name: Gorodetsky. He'd just happened to go into the shop for the same thing as me¡ªto put together a new mini-disk for his player. The magician was surprised when he saw my official seals and backed off immediately. He was even going to leave, out of disgust, I think, but they'd just finished cutting my disk, so I was the one who left.

  I was left wondering for a while why he hated the Dark Ones so much.

  But then, everybody hates us. Well, almost everybody. And they just don't want to believe that what we feel about them is mostly indifference¡ªjust as long as the Light Ones don't get in our way. And they do, all the time. But I suppose we get in their way too.

  No one from the Night Watch bothered me. I don't think they even made any attempt to find me and question me. They must have realized that a Dark magician has no need to drink human blood. Of course, I could have done it, and given myself a chronic digestive disorder¡ªif I hadn't been sick in disgust. . . I was totally absorbed in waiting for the next step up along the stairway, for when something inside me would force me to make use of magic, but apparently for that to happen required an extreme, unambiguous situation. Not just minor actions, like getting rid of the fat-faced ticket inspectors in the bus with their shaved heads, or a mantle of calm for the agitated people standing in line for metro cards when I couldn't be bothered to wait¡ªno, all that was quite literally yesterday's level as far as I was concerned. In order to learn something new and reveal another layer of my sealed memory, in order to take possession of the knowledge that was still slumbering, I needed more serious shocks.

  I had to wait for them, but not very long.

  Like many other Dark Ones, I turned out to be an inveterate night owl. Since I was living among ordinary people, I couldn't completely ignore the day, but I didn't feel like resisting the al-luring call of the night either. I rose late, about midday or even later, and I only returned to the hotel at dawn.

  My fourth night in Moscow was already streaked with the first hints of dawn, the blackness had already admitted the first shades of dark gray into itself, when I ran smack into the next step upward. I was strolling along deserted Izmailovsky Boulevard when I suddenly sensed the flash of a powerful magical discharge somewhere in among the buildings in the distance.

  When I say "discharge," I don't mean that uncontrolled energy had simply escaped. No. The energy was discharged and then immediately absorbed, otherwise the final result would have been a banal explosion. Others transform themselves, and the world, and energy. But in the final analysis the balance of energy emitted and absorbed always amounts to zero, otherwise. . .

  Otherwise the world simply couldn't exist. And we couldn't exist in it.

  I felt something urging me to go there. Go!

  So I had to go

  I walked for about twenty minutes, confidently turning corners at intersections and sometimes taking shortcuts through courtyards. When I was almost there I sensed Others¡ªthey were approaching rapidly from two different directions, and at the same time I heard the sound of several automobiles. Almost immediately I picked out the house and the apartment I needed from the faceless palisade of high-rises. That was where the event had occurred that had caught the attention of the other me, still concealed somewhere in the depths of my ordinary being.

  A standard five-story Khruschev-period building on Thirteenth Park Street. Rubbish containers standing along the end wall, and not a sign of the trading kiosks I was so used to seeing in the South.

  Three vehicles at the entrance: a Zhiguli, a humble and very unkempt-looking station wagon, and a pampered BMW. There were actually plenty of other cars standing all around, but they were obviously parked for the night, while these had just arrived in a hurry and been dumped.

  The fifth floor. At the entrance to the stairwell (the metal door, by the way, was standing wide open) I sensed powerful magical blocks, and they made me pull my shadow up from the ground and enter the Twilight.

  I think the Twilight draws Power out of Others¡ªif they don't know how to resist it, of course. Nobody told me what to do. I just started doing it instinctively, as if I'd always known how. Maybe I always had, and I just remembered when I needed to.

  The blue moss that inhabits the first level of the Twilight had spread in luxurious abundance over the walls and the stairs, even the banisters. The people living in this entrance must be highly emotional if it was flourishing so well.

  Here was the apartment I wanted. More powerful blocks, and the door locked even in the Twilight.

  And at that point I was flung up another two steps. Overcoming a momentary weakness, I raised my own shadow from the floor again and went deeper.

  I could immediately tell this was a place where not many came. There was no building. There was almost nothing at all except a dense, dark gray mist and the moons that I could vaguely make out through it. All three of them. There ought to have been a raging wind¡ªthe wind doesn't recognize any difference between the ordinary world and the Twilight¡ªbut at this level, time flowed so slowly that I could hardly feel it at all.

  I began slowly falling, sinking into this mist, but I held myself up. Apparently I knew how to do that. A certain effort¡ªas always, hard to describe and more instinctive than conscious¡ª and I moved forward. Another effort, and I glanced out into the preceding level of the Twilight.

  Everything was happening in syrupy slow motion, as if the world had sunk into a layer of transparent gray tar, and at first, sounds seemed like deep, distant peals of thunder, but I managed to adjust to their slowness. I must have set my rate of perception to the same pace, attuned myself to this new reality, and from that moment on, everything that was happening began to remind me again of the ordinary world¡ªthe world of human beings.

  A narrow hallway, as they all are in those buildings. Two doors on the left¡ªto the bathroom and the kitchen. One room farther along on the left and one on the right. The room on the right was empty. In the room on the left there were five Others and a body lying on a disheveled bed. The body of a guy about thirty: He had several ragged wounds in the area of his crotch and stomach, which immediately put to rest any idea that he could be saved. The wounds were covered with a crumpled, bloody bed sheet.

  There were three Light Ones and two Dark Ones. The Light Ones were a lean young guy with a rather asymmetrical face and two acquaintances of mine¡ªthe music lover Gorodetsky and the girl shape-shifter. The Dark Ones were a plump magician with a keen, intense expression, and a gloomy individual who looked to me like an unsuccessful parody of a lizard¡ªhe was wearing clothes, but his hands and face were gr
een and scaly.

  The Others were arguing.

  The Light One I didn't know was talking.

  "It's the second incident this week, Shagron. And another murder. I'm sorry, but it's beginning to look like you've thrown the treaty out the window. "

  The Dark One glanced involuntarily at the corpse.

  "We can't keep track of everybody, you know that perfectly well," he blurted out, but I didn't hear any trace of guilt or regret in his voice.

  "But you undertook to warn all the Dark Ones about Clean Week! Your chief promised officially. "

  "We did warn them. "

  "Well, thank you!" The Light One clapped his hands in theatrical applause. "The result is impressive. I repeat: We, the agents of the Night Watch, officially request your cooperation. Call your chief out!"

  "The chief isn't in Moscow right now," the magician replied morosely. "And, by the way, your chief knows that perfectly well, so he needn't have bothered to authorize you to request cooperation. "

  "Does that mean," Gorodetsky asked with the hint of a threat in his voice, "that you are refusing to provide cooperation?"

  The Dark magician shook his head rather more quickly than he need have. "What do you mean, refusing? No. We're not refusing. I just don't understand what we can do to help. "

  The Light Ones seemed to be filled with righteous wrath at that. The magician I didn't know spoke again. "What can you do? Some shape-shifting hooker rips the balls off a client¡ª an uninitiated Other, by the way¡ªand gets clean away! Who knows all your countless low-life best¡ªyou or us?"

  "Sometimes I think you do," the Dark magician retorted and glanced at the girl. "If you remember the conversation in the Seventh Heaven when they caught the Inquisitor and him. . . "¡ª he nodded at Gorodetsky and paused, as if he were thinking about something.

  "Most likely the shape-shifter's not registered. And most likely the client got a bit too boisterous and er. . . er. . . Well, let's put it this way: He wanted something that was unacceptable even to a hooker. And this is the result. "

  "Shagron, you can't unload this on the human cops, because she killed him when she was in her Twilight form. Like it or not, the Watches are involved. So tell me straight: Are you going to carry out an investigation or will you force us to deal with it? And don't even hope that you can just drag things out. We want Saturday's vampire and this cat up in front of a tribunal, and before next weekend. Do you understand our demands?" The skinny young guy was leaning on Shagron, insisting on his rights, and he obviously enjoyed doing it, as an Other who didn't often get involved in showdowns. And he seemed to have justification for putting on the pressure. . .

  "These lousy, lecherous cats," the scaly one suddenly muttered. "Brainless bitches. . . "

  "Shut up," the Light girl told him coldly. "You overgrown gecko. "

  Ah, yes, she was a cat too, even though she was Light. . .

  "Cool it, Tiger Cub," Gorodetsky said to her. Then he turned to the Dark magician again. "Do you understand our demands?"

  At this point I returned to the first level of the Twilight. To describe the seconds that followed as a dumb show would be a gross understatement.

  "You!" the girl gasped. "You again!"

  "Buenos noches, lady and gentlemen. Pardon me, I saw the light, so I just dropped in. "

  "Anton, Tolik," Tiger Cub said in a ringing voice that trembled slightly, pointing one finger at me in a childish manner. "Andriukha found him standing over the vampire's victim on Saturday! This Dark One from Ukraine!"

  All five of them carried on staring straight at me.

  "I hope," I said ironically, "that I don't resemble a shape-shifting hooker any more than I do a crazy vampire?"

  "Who are you?" the Dark magician, the one they called Sha-gron, asked in a hostile voice.

  "A magician, dear colleague. A Dark magician. From out of town. "

  When he tried to probe me, I could tell that if I hadn't yet climbed up the next step, then I was right there in front of it. He didn't get anywhere. And meanwhile I noticed that Shagron's defenses were not entirely his own¡ªI could sense a framework that had been put together by a top-class magician. Probably the famous chief who wasn't in Moscow at the moment.

  "A second murder, and here you are again," Tolik drawled suspiciously, also making an attempt to probe me¡ªquite unsuccessfully, as I noted with some satisfaction. "I don't like it. Perhaps you would care to explain?"

  Tolik certainly looked annoyed, but now he was behaving correctly, and that suited me just fine. He was obviously the leader of the three Light Ones and now he was busily thinking over the possible courses of action. There seemed to be plenty of choice.

  "Yes, I would," I agreed readily. "I was out strolling not far from here. I sensed something bad going on. And I came to see if I could do anything to help. "

  "Do you work in the Watch back home in Ukraine?" the scaly one asked unexpectedly.

  "No. "

  "Then how can you help?"

  "Who knows?" I said with a shrug.

  Of course, the scaly one's tongue was long and forked. Our people's imagination is certainly pretty limited. You'd think the Twilight image of a Dark One offered plenty of scope for fantasy¡ªunlike what the Light Ones have, which is just a standard outfit: a luminescent glow and white clothes. The more sentimental ones, mostly the women, have a white garland as well. But even so. . . almost all the Dark Ones go for the old worn-out cliche of a scaly demon with horns and a forked tongue.

  "Of course, you have nothing at all to do with these murders?" the girl said with poorly concealed sarcasm.

  "Naturally. "

  "I don't trust him," said the girl and turned away. "Anton, you have to probe him. "

  "We will," Anton replied without thinking. "When we get back I'll personally request all the data on him. . . "

  I laughed ironically.

  "All right. If you don't want any help, I don't mind. I'm not going to impose myself on you. I'll be going then. . . "

  I started toward the door.

  "Hey, Dark One," Tolik said to my back. "I'd advise you not to leave Moscow. That's an official ban from the Night Watch. "

  "I'll bear it in mind," I promised. "In any case, I wasn't planning to leave. . . "

  "I'll go with you," Tolik said to Anton and Tiger Cub. "I have something to say to you. "

  Anton thought gloomily that he must have done a bad job cleaning up again¡ªfor some reason this strange Dark One's words had really stung him. Tiger Cub had imitated the stranger's way of speaking very precisely, right down to the intonation pattern, and when Anton saw the Dark One, he was convinced yet again that Tiger Cub had the makings of a skillful actress. Who could tell what she might have been if she hadn't been an Other. . .

  Shagron and his partner had driven off in their fancy BMW a long time ago. Tolik reached out his hand demandingly and Anton obediently gave him the keys to the office Zhiguli. Tiger Cub got into the back without speaking. Anton sat beside Tolik, who drove rapidly out onto Sirenevy Boulevard and headed east.

  "Who is he, this Dark One?" Anton asked to break the silence. He was in a foul mood. Another body¡ªand this time an uninitiated Other!

  "He's a very powerful magician," Tolik said abruptly. "More powerful than me. I tried to probe him and I failed¡ªhe closed up instantly. "

  "Closed up?" Tiger Cub said in an excited voice from the back. "You mean he came without a shield?"

  "That's just the point," Tolik exclaimed gloomily. "When he came in, he looked exactly like an ordinary magician, maybe third or fourth level. Like me and Anton. "

  Anton didn't say anything¡ªstrictly speaking, Tolik was incorrect, but in essence he was right. Gesar had called Anton a second-level magician, but Anton's powers had only risen to that level on a few occasions. It would be more honest to admit that for the time being he was still third level.

  "But as soon as I tried to
probe him," Tolik went on, "that was it. A blank wall. He's definitely more powerful than me. Anton. Did you try to probe him?"

  "No. "

  "Looks like he's first level. . . " Tolik, said with a sigh. "If it comes to it, we'll have to call in Ilya. . . "

  "I'm afraid we might even have to call in Olga and Sveta and the boss," Anton remarked. Nobody answered him. Nobody liked the idea of asking the Higher Magicians for help.

  Tiger Cub started squirming about, making herself more comfortable on the seat. "There's no way he's not connected with these murders. I can understand the first time¡ªhe arrived in Moscow, went out for a walk, and accidentally stumbled across a poacher. But this time? What was he doing on Pervo-maiskaya Street?"

  "But did he definitely arrive on Saturday?" Tolik asked.

  "Definitely," Tiger Cub assured him. "I didn't like the look of him, you know? I even found the train he was on and scanned the conductress for memories. He almost never came out of his compartment, but he was on the train all right. "

  "And do we have anything on him?"

  Anton thought he caught a hint of concealed hope in Tolik's question: "Compromising material, you mean? Not a thing. Not a single violation. He doesn't need any licenses, he's not a vampire or a shape-shifter. And he was only initiated fairly recently, just seven years ago. . . Like me. "

  Tolik nodded thoughtfully. "There aren't many Others in Nikolaev. So the Watches are small as well, only twenty or thirty agents. . . "

  "Okay, when we get back, I'll dig a bit deeper," Anton promised. "Did you lock up your station wagon, eh?"

  "What's going to happen to it?" Tolik asked with a shrug. "Yes, we'll have to phone the boss after all. Or will we be able to handle this on our own?"

  He was obviously feeling uncomfortable. Tolik had been in charge of the IT department for more than a year now, since Anton made the move to operational work. But no member of the Night Watch has the right to let his qualifications slip¡ª and the time had come around for Tolik's month of field duty.

  And on the very first day there was an unpleasant incident like this. . .

  "We'll probably have to tell him," Anton decided.

  "Then there's no point in putting it off. . . " Tolik sighed.

  Tiger Cub eagerly held out her cell phone, but before Tolik could even touch it the phone started chirping the tune of "Midnight in Moscow. "

  Anton was about to take the phone, but he restrained himself. You never know. . . It was obviously one of their own calling, but he couldn't sense the tense, nervous energy of a work call. Maybe it was simply some member of the Watch calling Tiger Cub? Everybody had a personal life, even the members of the Watch.

  Tiger Cub took the call. Most of the time she just listened, and once she said, "I don't know. "

  "It's Garik," she explained in a voice filled with quiet alarm. "Andriukha's disappeared. "

  "Tiunnikov?"

  "Yes. Garik thought he was with us. "

  "The last time I saw him was this afternoon," Tolik told her. "He was planning to go and catch up on his sleep. "

  "His phone's not answering. Garik can't sense him either¡ª and he's Andriukha's mentor. . . "

  Anton turned toward Tiger Cub: "After Saturday he was like a man possessed. What did that Dark One say to him in the alley?"

  Tiger Cub shrugged. "Nothing special¡ªI've told you a hundred times already. He called him a detective. But Andriukha really had screwed up¡ªit was obvious straightaway that the Dark One was no vampire. I explained that to him myself. "

  "He doesn't have to be a vampire," Tolik declared in a bored, didactic voice. "This Dark One could quite easily be the organizer of the whole grisly mess. And it goes without saying that his organizational talents are clearly above average!"

  "One of Zabulon's pawns," Anton mused. "Yes, it's possible. Perfectly possible. "

  "Aim a bit higher. Not a pawn, not even a knight or a rook. A bishop. A serious piece. Maybe even a queen. . . "

  "Tolik, don't exaggerate. Without Zabulon there's no way the Dark Ones can match us. And Zabulon's not in Moscow. "

  "That's what the Dark Ones say. But who knows what the truth is. . . "

  "Zabulon hasn't shown his face much at all recently," Anton put in.

  "That's just it. He's been keeping quiet, planning an operation. . . The lousy thing is that I can't imagine what its objectives are. What do we have so far? Two suspicious killings, with absolutely no idea of how they're connected. "

  "If they are connected at all," said Anton, but even he didn't seem to believe his own words.

  "No, say what you like, but they're connected," Tolik insisted stubbornly. "I can sense it. And the link is that magician from out of town. "

  "Why bother thinking about it?" Tiger Cub asked. "Since Svetlana appeared we've had a substantial advantage. The Dark Ones have yielded one position after another¡ªremember how the boss put the pressure on Zabulon at the last round of negotiations? And Zabulon gave way¡ªwhat other choice did he really have? It looks as if the Dark Ones have launched an operation to restore the balance. But the timing's terrible¡ªjust before Clean Week. . . "

  "For the Dark Ones that's the best possible time," Anton growled. "They know we won't start anything serious without a good reason. But so far there doesn't seem to be any reason. "

  "Be careful what you say. . . " Tolik told him in a pained voice.

  The Zhiguli flew on along Leningradsky Prospect, overtaking the advancing dawn.

  They drove the rest of the way to the office without saying another word. Either no one wanted to predict the worst, or they all felt they were in for something serious.

  Garik was standing outside the entrance, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. And Ilya was there beside him, short of sleep and squinting out from behind his spectacles.

  "Right," Tolik said cheerlessly. "Brace yourselves. "

  Ilya and Garik quickly got into the car, squeezing Tiger Cub from both sides, and Anton immediately realized why they'd got in like that, and what the pale, furious, and therefore very restrained Garik would say next. . .

  "The Cosmos Hotel. Andriukha's dead, guys. . . "

  Tolik slammed the accelerator to the floor, but even the most powerful car isn't fast enough to overtake death. Tiger Cub jerked feebly, squeezed tight between her friends, and then froze.

  "How did it happen?" Anton asked in a dull voice.

  "That Dark One¡ªVitaly Rogoza¡ªjust phoned. He said he'd found the body of an Other in his room. "

  "I'll personally bite his throat out," Tiger Cub promised in a hoarse voice. "And don't you try to stop me!"

  "I phoned Bear just in case," Ilya said in a very neutral tone. "I think he's already in the Cosmos. "

  Anton got the idea that his colleagues had understood everything in advance and come to terms with the fact that a fight was inevitable. He secretly stroked the pistol in the holster under his armpit¡ªthe weapon that had never been any real use to him even once.

  I had a nagging feeling that the events of the night were still far from over. I felt I was just beginning to be able to foresee the immediate future. Not in detail¡ªfar from it, in fact¡ªmore as a tangled ball of probability threads. But I had begun to sense where the thickest strands were leading.

  Alarm, trouble, disaster, danger¡ªthat was what the night had in store for me. At first I thought I would wait for the Dark Ones downstairs, beside their BMW outside the entrance, but then I realized I shouldn't do that. I shouldn't enlighten them as to. . . well, as to my total ignorance. Let them think that I really was playing a game. The chief of the Day Watch was out of town, and the others didn't seem to be any competition for me. . .

  But just who was I? Wasn't I aiming too high? Was Moscow so short of powerful magicians? Even if they didn't work in the Watches? I couldn't keep being led on up the steps forever, could I?¡ªthere are no infinite stairways. Some way would
be found to keep me in check¡ªthe Moscow magicians had plenty of experience, many of them had an entire century of it. And I didn't really know what I could do and what I couldn't. I was still an unknown quantity. And how did I know my Power wouldn't evaporate just as miraculously as it had appeared?

  So you take your time, Vitalik, don't try to force things along. Better think about what bad things this fading night could bring you. But better not drag things out, lengthen that stride. . .

  I walked quickly, as far as Sholkovskoe Shosse, darted into an underpass, and then started hitching a lift on the opposite side of the road.

  What I like about Moscow is that even in the dead of night or early in the morning, all you have to do is raise your hand and an automobile will immediately pull in at the curb. In Niko-laev you can stand there for half an hour and no one will even think of stopping. But here everything is decided by money. Everyone needs it.

  The Exhibition of Economic Achievements, fifty rubles. The standard rate.

  I got into the sporty Volkswagen and set off toward problems that I could almost feel already.

  When I reached the hotel, I immediately sensed that my room's defenses had been compromised. The defenses had worked just as they were intended to do, and that was my main problem. Without looking at anyone, I went up to the sixth floor, walked to my suite, put the key in the lock, and froze for a moment, looking at the door.

  Okay, whatever was about to happen, I had to go through it.

  He was lying in the middle of the lounge with his arms flung out to the sides. There was an expression of childish surprise and resentment on his face, as if he'd opened a wrapper and in-stead of the candy he'd been hoping for he'd found an angry hornet that had instantly sunk its stinger into his carelessly exposed finger.

  He had stumbled into my Shahab's Ring. Not complex magic, but very powerful. And, naturally, he hadn't known the word that was needed. He was the unfortunate young detective, Andriukha Tiunnikov, a Light One from the Night Watch, who had been trying to prove that I'd murdered the girl on Saturday.

  If he'd been more experienced, he would never have stuck his nose into the area enclosed by the Ring. I hadn't even set it around the whole room¡ªonly the safe with the bag in it.

  This was the very last thing I needed¡ªthe Light Ones regarded the deaths of ordinary people as poaching, but the killing of an Other was a different matter altogether. It already smacked of a tribunal.

  But I had simply closed off my own territory, closed it off in a way that Others understood! This is mine! Keep out! No entry!

  Only he hadn't kept out. And he'd met his end in the Twilight. . . The infantile booby! Had he been trying to impress his bosses?

  I had to own up. Otherwise they'd ask in a way I couldn't refuse to answer.

  I reached for the phone¡ªnot my cell, but the ordinary phone that was standing on the table. The number obligingly surfaced from my memory.

  "Night Watch? Vitaly Rogoza, Other, Dark. If I'm not mistaken, I have your employee, Andrei Tiunnikov here. He's dead. You'd better come. . . Cosmos Hotel, suite six hundred twelve. "

  Strangely enough, the Light Ones weren't the first to arrive. The moment the first Others reached my floor¡ªthere were two of them¡ªI felt as if I were suddenly flooded with energy from someone. The pair were Dark magicians and they were both brimful of a Dark Power that reminded me in some ways of the Twilight, except that it was even denser and darker. A long tongue of Twilight ran straight down through the floors of the hotel, gradually growing thinner as it approached the ground and seeming to run on beyond it, to somewhere lower, somewhere underground.

  There was a knock at the door, emphatically correct.

  "Yes, yes," I replied, without getting up out of my armchair. "It's open, come in!"

  They came in. My acquaintance from the apartment on Per-vomaiskaya Street, Shagron. And another one, also a magician, as far as I could tell. A bit overweight, like Shagron, with dark hair. And powerful. More powerful than his partner. But even so, despite my expectations, it was Shagron who started talking. It seemed that the accepted thing among members of the Watches was for the most important member of a team to keep quiet¡ªAnton had preferred to listen too.

  "Good morning, colleague. "

  "What's good about it? You must be joking, colleague. "

  I deliberately pronounced the word "colleague" in the same tone as Shagron. But he wasn't so easily provoked, and that was where he had the advantage over me. In experience. All I had to rely on were cheap wisecracks like that, plus moments of sudden illumination and the mystical stairway that obligingly offered me one step after another, and then arranged a kick up the backside at the appropriate moment.

  "I'm not joking, colleague, simply greeting you. It's a pity you didn't wait for us back there. . . you know where I mean. I'd been counting on having a word with you. "

  "I didn't want to get in your way," I confessed, and it was more than half-true. A normal response from an Other¡ªDark or Light.

  "I was counting on help. Help from a brother-in-arms. But you chose to disappear. "

  That "I" was strictly a Dark way of speaking. In Shagron's place, any Light One would definitely have said "We," and been perfectly sincere. And he'd have meant exactly what Shagron had meant, no less sincerely, of course.

  "Okay. Let me introduce you. This is Edgar, our colleague from Estonia, recently a member of the Moscow Watch. What have you got here?"

  "What I've got here is yet another body," I confessed. "A Light Other. A Watch member. But then you already know all about it, don't you, colleague Edgar?"

  "There's not much time? The Light Ones will be here any minute? Is that what you wanted to say?" Edgar asked, casting aside diplomacy and addressing me in a familiar fashion. I realized there was no point in arguing with this dark-haired Estonian.

  "Last Saturday evening, when I'd just arrived, this Light One was in charge of the operation dealing with a poaching vampire. . . "

  "A vampiress," Edgar corrected me with a frown. "And then?"

  "By sheer chance I just happened to be there beside the victim. They found me beside the corpse and recognized me as a Dark One. Clearly out of inexperience¡ªI can't see any other reason¡ªTiunnikov accused me of what the vampire. . . that is, the vampiress. . . had done. I put him in his place, and I admit I did it quite sharply, but he'd asked for it. And that's really the whole story. . . When I left my room today, I left some protective spells. And when I came in, there he was. He was already beyond my help. "

  The last phrase simply burst out on its own¡ªI hadn't been planning to say it. It felt like I was beginning to talk nonsense again.

  "This snot-nosed kid was in charge of the operation?" Shagron asked incredulously. "When there were Light Ones with far more experience¡ªthe tigress, the magicians. . . "

  "Tiunnikov was in training, that's perfectly normal," Edgar barked at his partner, and then suddenly glanced at me. "But you set up a Shahab's Ring so strong that it killed the Light Ones' trainee on the spot?"

  The question was almost rhetorical. Apparently I'd cast a simple spell, but put too much Power into it. Maybe. . .

  I sensed the approach of the Light Ones at the same time as Edgar, just as they were nearing the hotel. A few seconds later Shagron picked them up too.

  "What did you tell them?" Edgar asked, obviously in a hurry. "But keep it short. "

  I sensed that he had covered us with a cowl of invisibility, and quite a powerful one too. Before I said a single word, I added some Power of my own to the cowl, drawn partly from somewhere inside myself, from my own mind, and partly from outside. It happened quite spontaneously, but I read the dumb astonishment in Edgar's eyes.

  "I phoned and said there was a dead Light One in my room. And told them his name. That's all. "

  Edgar gave a barely perceptible nod and glanced significantly at Shagron, who gave the slightest of shrugs.
r />   We stood there in silence until the knock at the door¡ªa far less polite one this time.

  The Light Ones didn't wait to be invited. They just walked straight in.

  There were five of them¡ªTolik, Anton, and the girl shape-shifter could barely have had enough time to get from Pervo-maiskaya Street to their office. Two others had come with them¡ªa cultured-looking young guy wearing spectacles with eighty-dollar frames and another with a suntanned face, as if it weren't winter in Moscow.

  These last two and Tolik carefully examined, probed, and scanned every centimeter of my suite. The walls here had probably never seen such intense magical activity.

  Anton and the girl didn't interfere, but I could clearly sense the aversion emanating from them. Not even hatred¡ªthe Light Ones don't really even know how to hate properly. More like a desire to pin me into the corner, have me condemned and punished. Or simply to hit me with so much Power that I'd be driven into the Twilight forever.

  And I also sensed there was at least one more Light One somewhere outside the room. Probably somewhere else on the same floor, or by the lifts. He was obviously covering the others' backs, and he had shielded himself really well for the job. I only spotted him, you might say, by accident. But I don't think that Sha-gron and Edgar had any idea he was there.

  I frowned. The Light Ones had the numerical advantage¡ª there were twice as many of them. And the two of them that I was seeing for the first time were very powerful magicians, almost certainly first level. In any case, the two of them together would be stronger than Shagron and Edgar. And Anton was no pushover either¡ªhe could give Shagron a good fight, or even Edgar. Plus the girl¡ªshe was a warrior. And that unknown one somewhere nearby. The balance of forces was not good at all. They'd grind us to dust, grind us as fine as powdered vanilla. . .

  Meanwhile the Light Ones had finished their scanning. The one in spectacles came up to me and inquired with emphatic indifference: "Tell me, did you really need to use a protective spell of such great Power?"

  "Well, why do you think I would have used so much Power?"

  The one in spectacles and the other one I didn't know exchanged a quick glance.

  "We demand to see your things. "

  "Stop, stop," Edgar put in hastily. "On what grounds, exactly?"

  The one in spectacles smiled bleakly¡ªwith just his lips. "The Night Watch has reason to suspect that a forbidden artifact of immense Power has been smuggled into Moscow. You must know that such actions contravene the terms of the Treaty. "

  My Dark colleagues looked at me doubtfully. They were apparently expecting some unambiguous response. But what was it? On this occasion my magical internal help-all chose not to prompt me. But on the other hand, I knew perfectly well that there weren't any forbidden artifacts in my bag. And so I gestured magnanimously and said, "Let them look! All night long if they want. "

  "I protest," Edgar said quietly, and apparently without any great hope. "You don't have the sanction of your chief. "

  "The protest is rejected," the one in spectacles parried in an inflexible voice. "I'm the chief here. Show us your things, Dark One. "

  I didn't have to be asked twice. I neutralized the remains of the defenses with a single gesture and opened the door of the safe, where my bag was lying in total isolation, apart from a pair of clothes brushes. Part of its logo seemed to gaze out at us reproachfully: Fuj. . . I imagined a bored, squeaky voice pronouncing it as "phooey. . . "

  I took the bag and tipped its contents out onto the bed. The Light Ones didn't take much interest in my things, but the sight of the final plastic bag put them on their guard¡ªthe second unknown magician even grasped the amulet in the pocket of his jacket.

  When I shook the money out onto the bedcover, everybody looked at me. My own side and the Light Ones. As if I were some kind of psycho. An absolutely hopeless case.

  "There," I said. "That's all I have. A hundred thousand. Actually a bit less now. "

  The magician in spectacles stepped toward the bed and rummaged disdainfully through my things, glancing into the plastic bags. But I realized that what he really wanted was tactile contact.

  He wasn't even satisfied with remote scanning!

  Good grief, what did they suspect me of? Probably some cretin really had tried to bring something forbidden into Moscow, and since I'd overdone it a bit protecting my miserable heap of bucks, now they suspected me of everything. That was really funny, and it was getting funnier all the time.

  The one in spectacles spent about a minute sniffing at my baggage. Then he gave up.

  "All right. There's nothing here. We're declaring this suite off-limits. You'll have to change rooms. "

  The girl shape-shifter started and gave him a puzzled look. He spread his hands and I understood the meaning of his gesture. There was nothing to charge me with. No grounds. The shape-shifter tensed up, but the other magician put his hand on her shoulder, as if he were warning her not to do anything rash.

  "Ye-es?" Edgar drawled insinuatingly, and something Estonian finally came through in that "Ye-es" of his. "Change rooms? In that case we request official permission for a seventh-level intervention. In order to avoid unnecessary questions from the hotel management. "

  The Light Ones were annoyed by that¡ªbut then, they were all annoyed already in any case.

  "Why? We can influence the staff without any psychic correction. "

  "But you have a habit of declaring any influence a violation," Edgar explained in a very innocent voice.

  "I will per. . . " Ilya drawled slowly and then broke off. "No. I won't permit it. Anton, you go with them and do it all yourself. Try to make sure they move him as far away from here as possible, so that. . . Anyway, just do it. "

  Edgar sighed in disappointment. "Okay. . . if you say no, then it's no. But tell me, dear fellow, do you have any more questions for our colleague?"

  Edgar's tone of voice was so prim and polite that I was afraid the Light Ones might decide he was mocking them. But they clearly knew Edgar pretty well. And maybe this caustic, biting politeness was the norm of behavior between the two Watches.

  "No, we don't dare detain him any longer. But permit us to remind you that until our investigations are concluded, he is forbidden to leave Moscow, in connection with three cases. "

  "I remember," I put in as innocently as I could.

  "In that case, permit us to take our leave. Colleague Vitaly, pack your things. . . "

  I shoved all my bits and pieces into the first plastic bags that came to hand, put the plastic bags into the large bag, picked up my jacket from where I had dropped it on the armchair, and stood up. Edgar pointed to the door in invitation.

  We went out into the corridor and took the elevator down to the vestibule, where Edgar suddenly turned to the Light One with us.

  "Anton! Our colleague is not going to stay in this hotel any longer. We're taking him with us. If you need him, you can inquire at the Day Watch office. "

  The Light One seemed to have been taken by surprise, he glanced uncertainly at the hotel administrator sleeping behind his counter, then nodded indecisively. And we set off toward the exit.

  I didn't put my jacket on because I'd already spotted the familiar BMW standing outside the door of the hotel¡ªI'd only been able to see it because I was an Other.

  It was warm and cozy inside the car. And spacious too¡ªmy knees didn't press against the back of the front seat. I made myself comfortable and asked, "And where am I going to stay now?"

  "At the Day Watch office, colleague'? Or, rather, in the office hotel. You should have gone there straightaway. "

  "If only I'd known where to go. . . " I muttered.

  The BMW went darting off, turned smartly out of the parking lot toward the entrance, dived under the boom almost before it had time to rise high enough, and eased into the sparse flow of traffic on Peace Prospect.

  Shagron might not be the stronge
st of magicians, but he could drive a car superbly. Peace Prospect flashed by and disappeared, followed by the arc of the Garden Ring Road. And all I saw of Tverskaya Street was an endless row of shop windows with tinted glass. . . but then, it wasn't really endless after all.

  We got out of the car very close to the Kremlin. The magicians left their BMW at the curb, without even bothering to lock it. I

  decided to take a look at it through the Twilight, simply out of curiosity and a desire to assess the quality of the protective spells so that I wouldn't overdo things again.

  I was astounded. Not by the sight of the car, but by the sight of the building, which had looked so ordinary in the ordinary world.

  In the Twilight the building had grown by three whole floors. One of them was inserted between the ordinary first and second floors, while the other two were on top, making the already big building even taller. The Twilight floors were made of polished black granite. Almost all the windows were curtained and dark, but the first weak rays of sunlight were already glinting on the white boxes of modern air-conditioners.

  I forgot about the protective spells in an instant.

  There was a small portal leading straight out onto Tverskaya Street; behind the glass door I could sense, rather than see, the silhouette of an Other.

  "Well, well, well!" I said. My voice sounded hollow, like all sound in the Twilight. My colleagues all turned their heads as if by command.

  "What? Haven't you seen it before?"

  "No. "

  "It impresses everybody the first time. Come on, you'll have plenty of time to admire it. "

  We went up a few steps and found ourselves in a tiny duty office. The vague figure behind the door had materialized into a skinny, dismal-looking young guy¡ªI think he was a shape-shifter. But he was laughing in joyful delight as he read Victor Pelevin's story, "A Werewolf Problem in Central Russia. "

  But the moment Edgar entered the duty office, the young guy was transformed. His eyes flashed and the book dropped onto the desk.

  "Hi, Oleg. " Edgar greeted him in a Baltic accent that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

  Shagron simply nodded.

  I decided to say hello too: "Good morning. "

  "This is a colleague of ours from Ukraine," Edgar said, introducing me. "When he wants, let him through into the guest sector without any checks. "

  "Understood," Oleg agreed immediately. "Shall I enter him in the database?"

  "Yes. "

  Oleg glanced into my eyes and bared his teeth in a friendly grin, read my registration mark with some effort, sat down at the desk, and took a notebook PC out of one of the drawers.

  "And where's your partner?" Edgar asked.

  Oleg's face took on a guilty expression.

  "He went out for cigarettes. . . Just for a moment. "

  "Let's go," Edgar said with a sigh, taking me by the sleeve and drawing me toward the elevators. Shagron had already pressed the call button.

  We seemed to be in the elevator for a long time. At least longer that I'd been expecting. But then I remembered the additional floors and everything fell into place.

  "The guest sector is on the ninth floor," Edgar explained. "Basically it's just like a hotel, only it's free. I don't think there's anyone staying there at the moment. "

  The elevator doors parted soundlessly and we found ourselves in a square foyer, decorated with a rational combination of luxury and economical functionality. Leather divans and armchairs, a live palm tree in a tub, engravings on the walls, a carpet on the parquet floor. A counter like the ones in hotels, but there was no sign at all of any table and chair for a bellhop. Just a locked secretaire, with an elegant metal key protruding from the lock.

  Edgar opened the secretaire to reveal neat rows of horizontal wooden pegs, with a key hanging on each one. And beside the pegs there were numbers.

  But I was being too hasty¡ªthere were no keys on two of the pegs: numbers two and four.

  "Take your pick. If the key's here, it means the apartment's free. "

  He said "apartment," and not "suite," as if the fact that this accommodation for Others was free distinguished it from faceless hotel suites and put it in the category of places that could be called home.

  I took key number eight. From the right end of the second row.

  "You can look the place over later," Edgar told me. "Leave your things and come straight back. "

  I nodded, wondering what my Dark colleagues were planning. No doubt a polite but thorough interrogation.

  That was okay. I'd survive. They were my kind, after all.

  The apartment really was an apartment. With a kitchen, a separate toilet, and three spacious rooms¡ªand a huge hallway. It was a typical Stalin-period apartment refurbished to "European" standards. The ceilings were three and a half meters high, if not four.

  I hung my jacket on the coatrack and dropped my bag in the middle of the hallway. Then I went out into the corridor and pulled the door shut.

  I could hear faint music coming from apartment number four: A minute earlier, as I was walking past, it had been something light and foreign. But now the song had changed. The words were almost drowned out by the harsh rhythm and the background of hard rock¡ªI guessed at them rather than heard them:

  Cast down by the power of fate,

  You are humiliated and crushed.

  It's time to forget who you were,

  And remember who you've become!

  Cast into the depths, where it doesn't matter

  Why fame used to court you before¡ª

  Villains set a brand of fire on you,

  And your soul is empty.

  People in the depths prowl through the darkness,

  Ready to eat each other up.

  Anything to prolong this wild life,

  And snatch something for themselves. . .

  Angry like them, all angry and pitiful,

  You rush round and round in the same herd,

  With them you crawl for food at knifepoint,

  Like a slave or a prophet.

  I don't know why, but I froze outside that other person's door. These were more than just simple words. I absorbed them through my skin, with my entire body. I had forgotten who I used to be, but how could I remember who I'd become? And hadn't I entered a new circle now, running with a herd that I still didn't know?

  Oh, if I could listen just to silence.

  Not lies, or flattery, not the midday or the darkness.

  Be like snow melting in the sun,

  And love, knowing no betrayal,

  Then you would die of anguish and anger!

  No, I clearly wouldn't get any chance to listen to silence in the immediate future. Too many others had taken an interest in my modest person. Light Ones and Dark Ones. . .

  Meanwhile the singer's voice had grown stronger and taken on a triumphant, challenging note:

  Hey, you inhabitants of the skies!

  Which of you has not plumbed the depths?

  Without passing through hell,

  You can never build heaven!

  Hey, you inhabitants of the depths!

  The thunder is laughing at you.

  To be on equal terms with them¡ª

  There is only one way upward!

  There is only one way upward. . .

  So that was it. . . The way upward. And you couldn't get to heaven unless you'd already done your time rattling around in hell. Except that heaven and hell were different for everyone¡ªbut then that was what Kipelov was really singing about anyway.

  Strange. I'd heard the song before, and the singer's name had stuck in my memory. I'd even included it in the mini-disk I put together for my player. But now it sounded completely new; it had suddenly slashed across my mind like an invisible shard of broken glass.

  "Colleague! Please hurry!" Edgar called to me.

  I stepped regretfully away
from the door.

  I'll have to listen to it later. . . Buy the whole album and listen to it. . .

  The singer's voice faded away behind me:

  But if the light flares up in your brain

  And dislodges all the submission,

  The old days will come alive in your soul,

  And a new sin will be committed.

  Blood on your hands, blood on the stones,

  And over the bodies and the pitiful backs

  Of those willing to die as slaves,

  You strive upward once again.

  It somehow seemed to me that Kipelov knew only too well what he was singing about. About blood. About the lower depths. About the sky. This long-haired idol of the Russian heavy metal set could easily turn out to be an Other. At least, I wouldn't be surprised if he did.

  I went up to the next floor with Edgar and Shagron, and we found ourselves in a genuine office space, with a large hall divided into little booths separated off by screens, individual offices at one side and an open area overlooking Tverskaya Street through a huge window of lightly tinted glass. I noticed that the Dark Ones used hardly any desktop PCs: at least the three Watch staff members who were there¡ªthey must have been either very late owls or very early larks¡ªwere all sitting with their noses stuck in the screens of their notebooks.

  "Hellemar!" Edgar called, and one of the three¡ªa werewolf, like the guard on duty downstairs¡ªreluctantly tore himself away from some game on the screen.

  "Yes, chief?"

  "I want an urgent news update! All movements of reagents or artifacts of great Power. Lost, disappeared, smuggled. All the latest events!"

  "What's happened?" the werewolf Hellemar asked. "Is there something dangerous going on?"

  "The Light Ones have information that someone's trying to smuggle an artifact into Moscow. Move it, Hellemar!"

  Hellemar turned to the other players:

  "Hey, you blockheads! Get to work!"

  The blockheads instantly dropped what they'd been doing and seconds later I could hear the quiet rustling of keyboards, and on the screens the endless corridors filled with monsters had been replaced by the bright windows of Netscape.

  Edgar took me into an office separated off from the large hall by a glass wall and blinds. Shagron went off somewhere for a moment, but he soon came back with a jar of Tchibo and a carton of Finnish glacier water. He poured the water into an electric kettle and pressed the appropriate switch. The kettle started murmuring industriously almost immediately.

  "I hope you have sugar here?" Shagron muttered.

  "I'll find some. " Edgar lowered himself into one armchair and offered me the other: "Have a seat, colleague. You don't mind if I call you simply Vitaly, do you?"

  "Of course not. Feel free. "

  "Excellent. Well, then, Vitaly, I'll do the talking, and you correct me if I get something wrong. Agreed?"

  "Certainly" I said readily. Because I had almost no idea what weird stories would surface out of my subconscious for me to tell to these intent agents of the Day Watch.

  "Have I understood correctly that you possess no information about the aforementioned artifact?"

  "You have," I confirmed.

  "A pity," Edgar said with genuine disappointment. "It would have greatly simplified matters. . . "

  As a matter of fact, not only didn't I possess any information about the aforementioned artifact, I didn't possess any information at all about any artifacts that Edgar might be interested in. This was no doubt an area where experienced Others felt like connoisseurs, but I still understood less about it than a pig does about oranges.

  "Then let's move on to the next point. You arrived in Moscow from Ukraine, if I understand correctly?"

  "Yes. From Nikolaev. "

  "For what purpose?"

  I pondered for about half a minute. Nobody tried to hurry me.

  "It's hard to say," I confessed honestly. "Clearly without any particular purpose. I just got fed up sitting at home doing nothing. "

  "You were only initiated very recently, am I right?"

  "Yes. "

  "Did you just get the urge to see a bit of the world?"

  "Probably. "

  "Then why Moscow, and not the Bahamas, for instance?"

  I shrugged. But really¡ªwhy? Surely not just because I didn't have a passport for foreign travel yet?

  "I don't know. The Bahamas are a place to go in summer. "

  "It's summer now in the Southern Hemisphere. And there are plenty of places to go. "

  Yes, that was true. I hadn't thought about that.

  "All the same, I don't know," I answered. "Later, maybe. . . "

  I had the feeling that Edgar wanted to ask about something else, but at this point Hellemar entered the office without knocking. His eyes were as wide as the cartoon mouse Jerry's when he suddenly spots his eternal pursuer, Tom, just behind him.

  "Chief! Berne, Fafnir's Talon! It's been taken from the Inquisition's vault! The whole of Europe's been in an uproar for over two hours now!"

  Shagron couldn't restrain himself¡ªhe leapt to his feet. Edgar held back, but his eyes glinted and even without entering the Twilight I could see the orange streaks that sprang up in his aura. But he quickly took himself in hand.

  "Is this open information?"

  "No. It's restricted. The Inquisition hasn't made any official statements yet. "

  "Your source?"

  The werewolf hesitated. "The source is unofficial. But reliable. "

  "Hellemar," Edgar said with a hint of emphasis, "your source?"

  "One of our men in the Prague information agency," Hellemar confessed. "An Other. Dark. I caught him in a private chat room. "

  "I see, I see. . . "

  I wanted very much to ask a few questions, but naturally all I could do for the time being was stare stupidly and keep quiet as I absorbed the important but, alas, incomprehensible things they were saying.

  "And how do the Light Ones know about this?" Shagron asked in puzzlement.

  "Who can tell?" said Edgar, twitching his eyebrows in a funny manner. "They have a wide network of informers. . . "

  "Status 'Aleph,"" Edgar said abruptly to Hellemar. "Call in the staff. . . "

  About half an hour later the office hall was crowded. Of course, all the individuals there were Others. And all Dark.

  But I still didn't understand a thing.

  When Anton got back to suite six hundred twelve, Ilya was sitting in an armchair and massaging his temples, and Garik was striding nervously to and fro across the carpet between the window and the divan. Tolik and Tiger Cub were sitting on the divan, and Bear was hovering in the doorway of the bedroom.

  ". . . he spotted me, by the way," Bear was saying gloomily. "Your 'cloud' didn't help. "

  "The Estonian?"

  "No, the Estonian didn't spot me. And neither did Shagron, of course. But the other one did, almost straightaway. "

  "But that's nonsense, guys. He can't be more powerful than the Estonian, can he?" said Garik.

  "But why can't he, really?" Ilya asked without raising his head. "A couple of hours ago I thought I knew all four of the Dark Ones in Moscow I wouldn't be able to handle one-on-one. But now I'm not sure of anything. "

  Anton slumped back against the refrigerator. The question his tongue was poised to ask had remained unspoken so far¡ª the conversation was more interesting than Anton had thought it would be at the beginning.

  And then Tiger Cub got in before him: "Ilya! Why don't you fill us in? About the artifact. "

  Ilya abruptly stood up and began: "To keep it short, Fafnir's Talon has been removed from the Inquisition's vault in Berne. Two. . . "¡ªhe glanced at his watch¡ª"no, already three hours ago now. The Swiss department is in a panic. The Inquisition is fuming and thundering, but so far it hasn't issued an official communique. The details are unknown; all we do know is that the Talon i
s at the seasonal peak of its Power. In the Dark phase, of course. Simple calculations indicate that liberating even part of the Power accumulated by the Talon in the territory of Central Russia is likely to result in powerful discharges, up to and including a localized Inferno breakthrough. And that's the way things stand. . . "

  "And Zabulon's not in Moscow. . . " Tolik drawled with slow emphasis.

  "You mean the Dark Ones are behind this?" asked Tiger Cub.

  "Well, we aren't, are we?" Ilya asked and his shoulders twitched as if he were suddenly feeling chilly.

  "Does Gesar know about this?" she asked.

  "Of course," Ilya said. "He was the one who told me. He ordered me not to worry, but just keep on working away. . . "

  Ilya sat down again.

  "I don't even know what to think," he said in a voice that somehow sounded tough and helpless at the same time. "To be quite honest, when I heard about a Shahab's Ring killing a Light One, I suspected the Talon was already here. There's no point in setting up a Ring with such monstrous Power¡ªit's just a waste, a sheer, unnecessary waste. I'd understand if it was to protect the Talon, but for a lousy heap of bucks. . . it's simply idiotic. . . "

  "A Dark One wouldn't have left the Talon in his suite without someone to watch it," Garik put in.

  "Of course not. It would be stupid," said Tiger Cub.

  "Yes, it would," Ilya agreed. "But we had to check. "

  "And what can we do now?" Tiger Cub asked gloomily. "Now Andriukha's dead, and we can't even punish his killer?"

  "Katya," Ilya said, looking at her sympathetically, "it's sad, but that's the way it is. And now we've been hit with a problem that makes Andrei's death seem almost unimportant. Our analysts have been following the approximate balance between global nexuses of Power since four o'clock this morning. If the Talon is moved, the balance is bound to be disrupted. "

  "And have they come up with anything?"

  "Yes. About an hour ago it became clear that the Talon is either already in Moscow or due to appear here at any moment. "

  "Hang on," Tolik put in again, "so the recurrences of poaching and unmotivated aggression by Dark Ones are due to the influence of the Talon?"

  "Probably. "

  "But the first incident took place on Saturday!" Tiger Cub protested in surprise.

  Ilya massaged his temples again; it was obvious now that he was very tired. "The Talon is a very powerful thing, Tiger Cub.

  The lines of probability extend far into the future. And the Dark Ones are more powerfully influenced by Dark artifacts than we are. So the small fry have already started running wild. . . "

  "If it's such a powerful thing, how come the Inquisition has mislaid it?"

  "I don't know," Ilya retorted, "I wasn't there. But I'm quite sure of one thing: If it's possible to do something, sooner or later someone's going to do it. "

  "Our people are coming," Garik remarked, off the point.

  He was right¡ªsomeone from the service section had arrived. Obviously Andrei Tiunnikov's body had to be taken away after the poor unfortunate had stumbled into a matrix of Power that was still way beyond his level.

  "And what about this Dark One?" Anton finally asked. "Do you think he's connected with the thieves?"

  "Not necessarily. " Ilya watched morosely as Tiunnikov's body was zipped into a black polythene bag. "He could be distracting us. Or he might not even be aware of what he's doing. That's what it actually looks like most of all. The Talon is controlling him, or the person who now possesses it. And the Dark One has definitely become more powerful since our clash with him last Saturday in the alley near the All-Union Exhibition. "

  "Then shouldn't we be following him?" Tolik suggested. "If he's connected with the Talon, isn't he bound to lead us to the thieves?"

  "If he is connected, he'll lead us to them. "

  "And if he doesn't?"

  Ilya sighed. "Then we'll have more surprises and emergencies. And that Dark One will be there all the time, just on the edge of our field of vision. He's bound to be. "

  "Wait," Garik said tensely. "What if he's predestined for the Talon?"

  "That's what I'm afraid of. . . "

  Anton shook his head sharply. After the events of a year and a half earlier, for a while he'd thought he could regard himself as an experienced and hardened watchman. But now he felt like an apprentice among virtuosos again. And he didn't like having to admit it.

  The phone rang¡ªthe local hotel phone. It felt strange to hear the ring of an ordinary phone after the trilling of all the cells.

  "Hello?" Tolik picked up the receiver, listened for a moment, and turned to Ilya. "For you. It's Semyon. "

  Ilya took the receiver and held it to his ear, then immediately ran a piercing glance over all of them.

  "Mount up, guys. The boss is already in the office. "

  Anton thought with a vague feeling of weariness that now he would see Svetlana again. And again he would feel the gulf between them widening with every second.

  I didn't stay in the Day Watch office for long after it livened up. I was dozing off where I sat, so I was simply sent off to catch up on my sleep. I didn't object, because I'd been on my feet for more than twenty-four hours and I couldn't keep my eyes open. As I slipped into sleep I could hear the faint strains of Kipelov's singing coming from somewhere:

  Hey, you inhabitants of the skies!

  Which of you hasn't plumbed the depths?