The Night Watch (Watch 1)

That was all. He cast off his former pupil as simply as that. I wondered how many pupils he'd had who'd failed to acknowledge his supreme goals and noble ideals.

Hundreds, thousands.

'Goodbye, Gesar,' I said. I glanced at Alisher. 'I wish you luck, new watchman.'

The young man looked at me reproachfully:

'If I may be allowed to say something. . .'

'Say it,' I told him.

'In your place, I would not be in any hurry, Light One Anton.'

'I've already lost too much time, Light One Alisher,' I said with a smile. I was used to thinking of myself as one of the most junior magicians in the Watch, but everything passes. And to this novice I was an authority. For the time being at least. 'One day you will hear the sound of time rustling as it slips through your fingers like sand. Remember me then. I wish you luck.'

CHAPTER 6

HEAT.

I was walking along Old Arbat Street. Artists sketching cartoon portraits, musicians playing hackneyed music, street traders all selling the same souvenirs, foreigners with the typical look of interest in their eyes, Muscovites in their usual irritated mood rushing past the stalls of sham craftwork.

Should I shake you all up a bit?

Should I put on a little show for you?

Juggle a few bolts of lightning? Swallow genuine fire? Make the paving stones open up to reveal a fountain of mineral water? Heal a dozen crippled beggars? Feed the homeless urchins darting around with cakes conjured up out of thin air?

What would the point be?

They'd toss me a handful of small change for the fireballs that should be used to kill creatures of Evil. The mineral water fountain would turn out to be a broken water main. These crippled beggars are already healthier and richer than most of the people walking by. And the homeless urchins would run for it, because they learned a long time ago that there's no such thing as free cake.

Yes, I could understand Gesar, I could understand all the higher magicians who'd been fighting against the Dark for thousands of years. You can't live for ever with a feeling of powerlessness. You can't carry on sitting in the trenches for ever: that kills an army more surely than enemy bullets.

But how did I come into it?

Did the banner of victory really have to be sewn out of the fabric of my love?

And how did these humans come into it?

Turning the world upside down and then turning it back again was easy enough, but who'd stop all the people from falling off?

Were we really incapable of learning anything?

I knew what Gesar was planning to do, or rather, what Svetlana was going to do on his instructions. I knew how it might turn out and I could even imagine which loopholes in the Treaty would be used to justify interference with the Book of Destiny. I had been told when the act would be performed. The only thing I didn't know was where and whose destiny was to be changed.

And that was a fatal gap in my knowledge.

Almost fatal enough to make me pay Zabulon a visit.

But then I'd be dispatched into the Twilight.

I was halfway along the Old Arbat when I sensed a surge of power – very faint, at the very limits of my sensitivity. There was magical activity taking place somewhere very close, not very strong, but even so . . .

The Dark!

Whatever I might think about Gesar, no matter how much I disagreed with him, I was still a soldier of the Night Watch.

I reached into my pocket for my amulet, summoned my shadow and stepped into the Twilight.

Oh, how neglected everything was!

It was a long time since I'd walked round the centre of Moscow in the Twilight.

Everything was covered with a thick carpet of blue moss. The slow oscillations of its threads created an illusion of trembling water. Ripples ran from where I was standing as the moss simultaneously drank in my emotions and tried to creep away from me. But I wasn't interested in the Twilight's little pranks right now.

I was not alone in the grey space under that sunless sky.

I looked for a second at the girl standing with her back to me and I could feel a wicked smile spreading across my face. A smile unworthy of a Light Magician. Some 'moderate intervention' this was!

A third-degree magical intervention?

Well, well.

That's very serious, my girl. So serious, you must be crazy. Third degree's way beyond your powers, you must be using someone else's amulet.

But I'll use my own powers to investigate.

I walked up to her and she didn't even hear my steps on the soft blue carpet of moss. The vague, shadowy forms of humans were sliding past us, and she was too absorbed in what she was doing.

'Anton Gorodetsky, Night Watch,' I said. 'Alisa Donnikova, you're under arrest.'

The young witch screeched and swung round. She was holding an amulet in her hand, a crystal prism through which she had been viewing the people walking by. Her first instinct was to try to hide the amulet, then she tried to look at me through the prism.

I grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. We stood close to each other for a second as I slowly increased the pressure, twisting the witch's wrist. A scene like that between a man and a woman would have looked shameful. But for us Others, physical strength doesn't depend on our sex, or even on how well developed our muscles are. Strength lies all around us – in the Twilight, in humans. I couldn't tell how much Alisa might have extracted from the world around her. It could be even more than I had.

But I'd caught her at the scene of the crime. And there could be other Watch members nearby. Resisting a member of the other Watch who had officially declared you under arrest was cause for immediate elimination.

'I'm not resisting,' said Alisa, and she opened her fingers. The prism fell into the soft moss, which swirled and seethed, enveloping the crystal amulet.

'The prism of power?' I asked rhetorically. 'Alisa Donnikova, you have performed a magical intervention of the third degree.'

'Fourth,' she replied quickly.

I shrugged.

'Third or fourth, that's of no real importance. It still means the tribunal, Alisa. You're in big trouble.'

'I didn't do anything.' The witch was trying hard to look calm. 'I have personal permission to carry the prism. I didn't make use of it.'

'Alisa, any higher magician can extract all the information needed from this thing.'

I reached down towards the ground, forcing the blue moss to part and the prism to leap into my hand. It was cold, very cold.

'Even I can read the history from it,' I said. 'Alisa Donnikova, Other, Dark Witch of the Day Patrol, fourth grade of power, I hereby formally accuse you of violating the Treaty. If you offer resistance I shall be obliged to eliminate you. Put your hands behind your back.'

She obeyed. And then she started talking, quickly and urgently, trying desperately to persuade me:

'Anton, wait, please, listen to me. Yes, I did try out the prism, but you must understand, it's the first time I've ever been trusted with such a powerful amulet! Anton, I'm not so stupid as to attack people in the centre of Moscow, and why would I want to? Anton, we're both Others! Can't we settle this in a friendly way? Anton!'

'Friendly?' I said, putting the prism in my pocket. 'Come on, let's go.'

'Anton, a fourth-degree intervention, or third degree! Any third-degree intervention carried out in the interests of the Light! Not like my stupid game with the prism, a genuine intervention!'

I could understand why she was panicking. This business could easily end in dematerialisation. A Day Watch agent sucking the life out of humans for her own personal ends – that would be a tremendous scandal. They'd hand Alisa over without the slightest hesitation.

'You have no authority to make such compromises. The leader of the Dark Ones will not ratify your promise.'

'Zabulon will confirm it!'

'Will he?' I was shocked by the certainty in her voice. She was probably Zabulon's lover. But even so, it was surprising. 'Alisa, I once made a friendly agreement with you.'

'Yes, and I was the one who suggested overlooking your intervention.'

'And do you remember how it all turned out?' I asked with a smile.

'This is different, I'm the one who's broken the law,' said Alisa, lowering her eyes. 'You'll have the right to strike back. You don't need permission for third-degree Light magic, do you? Or for any Light magic? You could remoralise twenty vicious criminals and make them righteous. Incinerate ten murderers on the spot. Prevent a catastrophe, create a localised time warp! Anton, isn't that worth overlooking my stupid trick? Look around, everyone here's still alive! I hadn't done anything yet. I'd only just started—'

'Everything you say can be used against you.'

'Yes, I know, I know!'

There were tears glittering in her eyes. Probably quite genuine ones too. Beneath her nature as a witch she was still a perfectly ordinary girl. A pretty girl frightened by the mistake she'd made. And was it her fault that she'd ended up on the side of the Dark?

I felt my emotional shield starting to buckle and shook my head:

'Don't try to put pressure on me!'

'Anton, please, let's settle this. Wouldn't you like the right to a third-degree intervention?'

Wouldn't I just? It was every Light Magician's dream to be given carte blanche like that. Just for a moment to feel that he was fighting like a genuine soldier and not sitting in the trenches, being eaten by lice and gazing dejectedly at the white flag of truce.

'You have no right to make such a proposition,' I said firmly.

'I shall have!' Alisa shook her head and took a deep breath. 'Zabulon!'

I waited, clutching the little combat disc in my hand.

'Zabulon, I summon you!' Her voice had become a high-pitched screech. I noticed the human shadows around us begin moving a little faster: a vague, inexplicable feeling of alarm was making the people lengthen their strides.

Would her summons reach the Dark Ones' chief again?

Like that time at the Maharajah restaurant, when Zabulon had almost killed me with Shahab's Lash?

But he hadn't killed me. He'd missed.

Even though the whole operation had been planned by Gesar, and Zabulon really seemed to believe that I was guilty of killing Dark Ones.

Did that mean he'd already had other plans for me?

Or had Gesar intervened, secretly and unobtrusively, diverted the streaks of lightning away from me?

I didn't know. As always, I didn't have enough information. I could have come up with thirty-three different explanations, each contradicting the others.

I was almost hoping Zabulon wouldn't respond. Then I'd be able to pull Alisa out of the Twilight, call in the boss or one of the operatives, hand the fool over to them and receive a bonus at the end of the month. But what did I care about bonuses right now?

'Zabulon!' There was genuine supplication in her voice. 'Zabulon!'

She was crying now, without even realising it. The mascara had run under her eyes.