Night Watch 05 - The New Watch (37 page)

The old woman moved to the next checkout, muttering something indignantly, although she did growl ‘Thank you’ to the girl with the pierced nose. The queues waited patiently. The youth fidgeted nervously, looking at his watch, but he stayed where he was. I studied the sign:
Sorry, we are temporarily unable to accept bank cards
.

A man who looked like a building labourer bought two packs of two-minute noodles and a can of strong beer, and then set off towards the chemist’s stand with a confident stride. I had no doubt that he was going to buy either ‘antiseptic liquid, 96 per cent ethyl alcohol’ or ‘tincture of hawthorn’, which possessed the additional advantage of having a pleasant smell. And then the youth who came after him didn’t buy any alcohol at all, but some kind of vitaminised lemonade ‘made with natural ingredients’. Maybe he was intending to mix this lemonade with tincture of hawthorn too, of course. But I decided not to think badly of people. Otherwise I would start thinking of them as inferior too.

The girl quickly rang up my purchases and even treated me to a weary workaday smile before she turned to the next customer. I walked thoughtfully towards the doors.

On the one hand, Las was wrong: I could live without magic, no problem. But on the other, it turned out that I really had lost the habit, if a simple trek to the shop had become a reason for me to anticipate heroics . . .

And incidentally, what was that Las had said about our bank cards from the Watch?

I walked towards the ATMs. Took out my card and twirled it in my hands. It had been issued by some bank I’d never heard of called the Commonwealth Bank of Australia, which seemed basically rather strange. Didn’t Russia have enough of its own banks or branches of well-known foreign ones? I stuck the card in the slot and entered the pin code. Right, let’s try it . . .
Balance request
. No information. Naturally, the ATM belonged to Raiffeisen, and I’d never seen any ATMs belonging to the Commonwealth Bank of Australia in Russia. I probably ought to look for them in Australia. And I thought I’d seen their logo in Taiwan, too . . . But I’d never even thought of checking my balance.

I wondered what the point was of the Night Watch providing its staff members with cards from a bank that didn’t conduct any business or have any offices in Russia.

Well . . . for instance, so that they couldn’t check their balance.

But then, what was the point of that?

I selected
Withdraw cash
on the menu. Then
Another amount
. I smiled at the pun. Another amount for an Other . . . The usual limit for a single withdrawal of cash was thirty thousand roubles.

I punched in 30 500 and pressed
Enter
.

The ATM thought for a second and started rustling banknotes.

I entered the pin code again. Went to withdraw cash. Selected the dollar menu. Paused before I entered the sum.

No, this was raving lunacy.

25 000.
Enter
.

No way could an ATM issue me two hundred and fifty hundred-dollar notes!

Something inside the machine started chirring. A stack of hundred-dollar notes slid halfway out. I pulled it out and stuck it in my pocket, as if I was dreaming. The ATM didn’t ask for the pin code again – it started counting out more notes. I stood there, trying to hide the slot with the money in it from curious eyes – the European tact in such matters hadn’t yet caught on in Russia.

Another stack of money.

The rustling of notes as another portion was counted out . . .

What was I going to do with twenty-five thousand greenbacks? I could buy a new car with that, but what did I need it for?

And the answer was basically this:

Light Others aren’t ascetics or saints who have renounced money. We like to dress in beautiful clothes and eat good food. We won’t say no to a new TV. Or to a new car.

But, unlike the Dark Ones, we feel . . . awkward about it, I suppose. It’s as if we try to live according to the utopian Communist slogan: ‘From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.’ Only we assess our abilities ourselves – and sometimes rather critically. And as a result we reduce the level of our needs.

What can be done to allow convinced altruists to indulge themselves whenever they feel like it? The answer’s simple – cure them of the habit of counting. Here are your bank cards, lads. Your pay (and believe me, the boss knows how much you’ve earned) is transferred to your account . . . Enjoy.

We were probably the only organisation in the world, whether human or Other, in which the boss tried to deceive his rank-and-file colleagues by increasing their pay.

Or rather, by not setting any limit to it.

That was funny.

‘Not the smartest thing for an Other who has blocked his abilities to do,’ a quiet voice said behind me. ‘I mean walking round Moscow in the evening with your pockets stuffed with bucks.’

‘I think walking round London or New York with that kind of money wouldn’t be too wise, either,’ I replied without turning round. ‘I knew you were following me, Arina.’

The witch laughed quietly. I finished stuffing the money into my pockets and turned to face her.

She was looking superb. As always.

‘Did you deliberately block your magic?’ she asked. ‘To lure me out?’

‘No,’ I admitted honestly. ‘I had a bet . . . with a colleague.’

‘About whether you could live without magic? Well, how is it?’ There was a note of unfeigned interest in Arina’s voice.

‘A mass of unpleasant little details, but I can get by.’

‘But I can’t,’ Arina sighed. ‘I’d turn into a decrepit old ruin . . . And by the way, you’re not being entirely honest. You blocked your magic, but you still have the health of an Other, your magical aura’s visible – and no vampire or werewolf would dare to attack you.’

‘I blocked what I could,’ I said morosely. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you’re going to do?’

‘Me?’ Arina asked in genuine surprise. ‘I’ll see you home, to make sure no one hurts you. We’ll have a talk on the way – I swear not to work any evil! You won’t attack me, will you?’

Naturally, I could have removed the magical block that I had set up myself. But that would have taken a few minutes and Arina would have sensed it.

‘Until I get home – no, I won’t.’

‘Great,’ the witch said delightedly. ‘Let’s get a move on. It’s getting dark already and the forces of evil are coming out to hunt!’

It occurred to me that the sight of Arina would be enough to make any force of evil who had the slightest inkling about magic fill his pants, but I didn’t verbalise this banal thought. Smiling at each other, we walked out of the supermarket and headed for my apartment block.

I wasn’t at all surprised that Arina knew exactly where I lived.

‘What do you make of the prophecy?’ Arina asked casually as soon as we were a few steps away from the shop.

‘Nothing. You stole the flash stick.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to apologise for that bit of petty larceny,’ Arina replied, not embarrassed in the least. ‘But I can’t believe that a computer specialist didn’t keep a copy.’

‘Gesar didn’t believe that, either,’ I sighed. ‘They turned the whole place upside down, checked my PC and my laptop . . . took away the toy . . .’

‘Oh, don’t play the hypocrite,’ Arina snorted, ‘As if you didn’t keep a copy, and somewhere where they wouldn’t find it! You could have sent it to an e-mail address, for instance.’

‘I did think about that,’ I said. ‘But that’s dead easy to trace too.’

‘All the same, you have that file,’ Arina said confidently. ‘By the way . . . would you like me just to give you back the flash stick? I don’t need it any more.’

‘I’ll destroy it, Arina. You can take it to Gesar, he was interested.’

‘Oh, woe is me, I don’t want to go to Gesar,’ said Arina, fluttering her hands. ‘It’s you I’m interested in. What are we going to do?’

‘I already told you – I haven’t heard the prophecy!’ I replied irritably. ‘I haven’t heard it! And I don’t want to hear it!’

Arina walked along for a while in silence, thinking about something. Then she said: ‘You’ll have to listen to it. It’s important, Anton. Believe me.’

‘And then the Tiger will come for me? And I’ll have to choose between revealing the prophecy to humans or dying? Thank you kindly! I’ll leave that choice to you!’

‘Anton, it’s all much more complicated than you think.’

‘Life is always more complicated than we imagine. Stop this! I’m sick of it, do you understand? I’m sick of deciding for other people! I’m sick of defending the Night Watch! I’m sick of fighting for good! I’m sick of everything!’

I didn’t realise at first that I was standing there shouting and the infrequent passers-by were keeping well away from us. Arina stopped too and looked at me sombrely. Then she said: ‘Anton, I understand you. And I’m not exactly overjoyed at what’s happening, either. But you must hear this prophecy. And you
will
hear it.’

‘And how will you make that happen?’ I asked. ‘Will you force me? Will you break your oaths again?’

‘Again?’ Arina asked in surprise. ‘I didn’t break anything. I didn’t swear that I wouldn’t purloin your trousers and the flash stick.’ She giggled, then turned serious. ‘No, Anton, and I don’t intend to exploit your temporary helplessness to force you to listen to the prophecy. You’ll do that yourself.’

I laughed and lengthened my stride. Arina hurried after me.

‘Anton, do you remember the joke about how to make a cat lick itself under its tail?’

‘No.’

‘You should: it may be a child’s joke, but it demonstrates various approaches to solving a problem. As usual, representatives of three different nationalities were involved. The American hypnotised the cat. The Frenchman spent ages training it painstakingly—’

‘I think it was the Chinese who trained it,’ I said without stopping.

‘That’s not important. And the Russian rubbed mustard on the cat, after which it started licking itself voluntarily with passion and gusto. You’ll listen to the prophecy yourself, Anton – with passion and gusto!’

‘And what’s going to be the mustard?’ I asked.

‘Your daughter. The boy’s prophecy concerns Nadya.’

‘What?’ I exclaimed, looking round.

Arina spread her hands expressively.

‘You heard what. And don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. See you, Anton! When you want to talk to me about the prophecy, summon me. Just summon me through the Twilight – I’ll hear you.’

She waved her hand to give me a glimpse of the Minoan Sphere and disappeared.

Lousy old witch, crazy senile schemer . . .

Yes, of course.

But she’d given me a good slathering of mustard. No mistaking that professional touch.

I only remembered that I’d forgotten to buy the toilet paper after I got out of the lift.

APPARENTLY
SVETLANA HAD
understood everything the moment I walked in the door. But she only asked the question late in the evening, when we were already in bed.

‘Have you blocked your magic?’

‘Uh-huh.’ I didn’t attempt to deny it, but I tried not to get involved in explanations. ‘The block will run out tomorrow.’

‘I see. For a dare?’

‘For a dare.’

Svetlana put down the book that she was reading in bed for the second evening in a row and glanced into my eyes. I tensed up, expecting some ironic comment or at least the question: ‘What the hell for?’

‘Was it hard, Anton?’ Svetlana asked.

‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘I never realised before that I’m always doing something with magic – little bits and pieces, but I do them . . .’

‘I understand.’

‘It’s hard to understand,’ I said, smiling to soften the unintended harshness of my words. ‘Until you try, it looks dead easy.’

‘Anton, I haven’t used magic outside the home for four years now.’

‘What!’ I sat up on the bed. ‘But that’s stupid!’

‘Yes, I know,’ said Svetlana, nodding.

‘But why?’

‘I felt like I was becoming less and less human,’ Svetlana replied. ‘Almost imperceptibly. At first it seemed miraculous – solving every problem with a single movement, only worrying about the balance between good and evil . . . Then I realised that I never solved any problems but my own. I started trying to reassure myself that there was nothing wrong with that. That the Night Watch couldn’t exterminate evil . . . that that wasn’t its job in any case: all we can do is not allow good to be defeated, humans have to strive for all the rest themselves. Well, you know . . . And the things they teach young Others in school – the ones with the most passionate hearts join the Watch afterwards, and the ones with cool heads simply live as Others among humans. And then it started making me feel . . .’ She paused, trying to find the right word.

‘Sick?’ I asked with avid curiosity.

‘Uncomfortable.’ Svetlana shook her head: ‘Not sick. We really do try to do good, after all. But . . . uncomfortable. You know, it’s . . . Rumata Estorsky probably felt that way just before he took out his swords and stood facing the door that the storm troopers were breaking down.’

‘I understand,’ I said with a nod.

‘I love you precisely because you do understand and I don’t have to explain to you who Rumata was,’ Svetlana said seriously and smiled. ‘And then . . . I realised that I would end up like he did.’

‘I went through something like that,’ I said.

‘You coped. You’re a man, you react differently. If push comes to shove, you can always get drunk and abuse Gesar. But I realised that I would just fly off the handle and run wild, create a real mess . . . And I stopped using magic. Well – apart from at home. I hate ironing the laundry!’

‘Why didn’t you say anything to me?’ I asked.

‘You were busy. You were saving the world.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I felt unbearably ashamed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for?’

‘For being a blind, self-satisfied ass. For not seeing . . .’

‘You couldn’t have seen anything, I didn’t put up a block. I just stopped using magic.’

I looked into Svetlana’s eyes. Then I glanced at the bedroom door.