The Twilight Watch (30 page)

I was shattered and crushed. Totally blown away. But I still tried
to object:

'Arina said something . . . about a city on the moon . . .'

'Yes, that's right,' Gesar said with a nod. 'There would have been
cities on the moon. Around the nuclear missile bases. Do you read
science fiction?'

I shrugged and cast a sideways glance at the book in the waste
paper basket.

'What the American writers were writing about in the 1950s
– that would all have happened,' Gesar explained. 'Yes, spaceships
with nuclear drives . . . all military. You see, Anton, there
were three ways that communism in Russia could have gone.
The first led to a fine and wonderful society. But that's contrary
to human nature. The second led to degeneration and self-destruction.
That's what happened. The third way was a conversion
to Scandinavian-type social-democracy, followed by the
subjugation of most of Europe and North Africa. Alas, one of
the consequences of following this path was the division of the
world into three opposed blocks and – sooner or later – global
war. But before that, people would have found out that the
Others existed and wiped them out or brought them under
control. I'm sorry, Anton, but I decided that was too high a
price to pay for cities on the moon and a hundred different
types of salami by 1980.'

'But now America . . .'

'You and your America,' Gesar said with a frown. 'Wait until
2006, and then we'll talk.'

I said nothing. I didn't even ask what it was Gesar had seen in
the future, in 2006, which was already so near . . .

'I can appreciate your emotional torment,' said Gesar, reaching
for his lighter. 'You won't think me too cynical if I light up now?'

'Have a glass of vodka, if you like, teacher,' I snarled back.

'I don't drink vodka in the morning,' Gesar started puffing to
get his cigar lit. 'I understand your torment . . . your . . . doubts
very well. I also do not regard the present situation as correct. But
what's going to happen if we all fall into a melancholy depression
and leave our jobs? I'll tell you what! The Dark Ones will
be only too delighted to take on the role of shepherds of the
human flock. They won't be embarrassed. They won't believe their
luck . . . So make your mind up.'

'About what?'

'You came here intending to hand in your resignation,' Gesar
replied, raising his voice. 'So make up your mind if you're staying
in the Watch, or you think our goals aren't Light enough for you.'

'Where there's black, even grey looks white,' I replied.

Gesar snorted. He asked in a calmer voice:

'What's happening with Arina, did she get away?'

'Yes. She took Nadiushka hostage and demanded help from me
and Svetlana.'

Not a single muscle even twitched in Gesar's face.

'The old hag has her principles, Anton. She can bluff with the
best, but she would never harm a child. Trust me, I know her.'

'And what if her nerve cracked?' I asked, recalling the horrors
I'd been through. 'She couldn't give a damn for the Watches, or
the Inquisition. She's not even afraid of Zabulon.'

'Maybe not Zabulon . . .' Gesar laughed. 'I informed the
Inquisition about Arina, but I contacted the witch as well. All official
and above board, by the way. Everything's minuted. And she
was warned about your family. Specially warned.'

This was unexpected.

I looked into Gesar's calm face and didn't know what to say.

'Arina and I have known and respected each other for a long
time,' Gesar explained.

'How did you manage that?'

'What exactly?' Gesar asked in surprise. 'Mutual respect? Well,
you see . . .'

'Every time I'm convinced that you're a villainous intriguer,
you prove that I'm wrong within ten minutes. We're parasites on
people? It turns out that it's all for their own good. The country's
in ruins? Things could have been a lot worse. My daughter's in
danger? She's in about as much danger as little Sasha Pushkin with
his old nanny . . .'

Gesar's expression softened.

'Anton, a long, long time ago, I was a puny, snot-nosed kid.'
He looked thoughtfully straight through me! 'Yes. Puny and snot-nosed.
When I quarrelled with my mentors, whose names wouldn't
mean anything to you, I was convinced that they were villainous
intriguers too. But they always convinced me I was wrong. The
centuries have gone by, and now I have my own pupils . . .'

He blew out a cloud of smoke and stopped speaking. What
point was there in going on?

Centuries? Ha! Thousands of years – long enough to learn how
to counter any outbursts from his subordinates. And do it so they
would arrive fuming with indignation and leave filled with love
and respect for their boss. Experience is a powerful thing. Far more
powerful than magic.

'I'd really like to see you when you're not wearing any mask,
boss,' I said.

Gesar smiled benignly.

'Tell me one thing at least, was your son an Other?' I asked.
'Or did you make him into one? I understand all that stuff
about how the secret can't be revealed, it's better for everyone
to think . . .'

Gesar's fist came crashing down onto the table. And he half-stood,
leaning forward over his desk. 'How long are you going to
go on harping on that subject?' he barked. 'Yes, Olga and I duped
the Inquisition and won the right to remoralise Timur. He would
have become a Dark One, and I couldn't allow that! Clear? Go
and report me to the Inquisition if you like! But drop this ridiculous
nonsense!'

For a brief moment I felt afraid. But Gesar started striding round
his office again and gesticulating energetically, with his feet
constantly coming out of his slippers.

'It's impossible to turn a human being into an Other. Impossible!
There's no way. Would you like me to tell you the truth about
your wife and daughter? Olga intervened in Svetlana's destiny. She
used the second half of the Chalk of Destiny for her. But not
even the Chalk of Destiny could have transformed your unborn
daughter into an Other if she wasn't going to have been born an
Other anyway. We only made her even more powerful, gave her
absolute power.'

'I know,' I said with a nod.

'How?' Gesar asked, astonished.

'Arina gave me a hint.'

'She's a smart one,' Gesar said. He lowered his voice again. 'That's
it! Now you know everything there is to know on the subject. A
human being cannot become an Other. By employing the most
powerful artefacts it is possible, in the early stages, or in advance,
to make an Other more or less powerful, or incline him to the
Light or the Dark . . .Within very narrow limits, Anton! If the
boy Egor had not been neutral initially, we wouldn't have been
able to erase his initiation to the Dark. If your daughter had not
been meant to be born a Great Enchantress, we could never have
made her into the Greatest of the Great. Before the vessel can be
filled with Light or Dark, the vessel has to exist. It depends on us
what will be poured into it, but we're not capable of creating the
vessel itself. We can only work with the little things, the very
tiniest things. And you think it's possible to turn a human being
into an Other!'

'Boris Ignatievich,' I began, not knowing myself why I used his
Russian name, 'forgive me if I'm talking nonsense. But I can't
understand how you could have failed to find Timur earlier. He
was your son and Olga's! Wouldn't you have been able to sense
him? Even from a distance?'

At this point Gesar suddenly wilted. A strange expression, simultaneously
guiltly and confused, appeared on his face.

'Anton, I may be an old plotter . . .' He paused. 'But do you
really think I would allow my own son to grow up in a state
orphanage, in poverty and suffering? Do you think I don't long
for a little warmth and affection? To feel human? To play with my
baby, to go to a football match with my little boy, to teach my
teenager how to shave, to accept my young man into the Watch?
Tell me one reason why I would have allowed my son to live and
grow old so far away from me. Am I a bad father, a heartless old
scoundrel? Maybe so. But then why did I decide to make him
into an Other? Why would I want all that hassle?'

'But why didn't you find him sooner?' I exclaimed.

'Because when he was born he was a perfectly ordinary child.
Not a trace of any Other potential.'

'It happens,' I said doubtfully.

Gesar nodded.

'You have doubts? Even I have doubts . . . I ought to have been
able to sense even rudimentary traces of Power in Timur. But there
weren't any . . .'

He spread his arms hopelessly. Then he sat down and muttered:

'So don't go attributing any imaginary miracles to me. I can't
make Others out of ordinary people.' He paused, then suddenly
added in a passionate voice: 'But you're right. I ought to have
sensed him sooner. Okay, sometimes we only realise a stranger is
an Other when he's already old. But my own son? The little boy
I dandled in my arms, the boy I dreamed of seeing as an Other?
I don't know. The initial signs must have been too weak . . . or
else I must have gone crazy . . .'

'There is another possibility,' I said uncertainly.

Gesar looked at me suspiciously and shrugged.

'There's always more than one. What do you mean?'

'Someone knows how to transform ordinary people into Others.
That someone found Timur and turned him into a potential
Other. And then you sensed him . . .'

'Olga sensed him,' Gesar growled.

'All right, Olga sensed him. And you swung into action. You
thought you were duping the Inquisition and the Dark Ones. But
it was you being duped.'

Gesar snorted.

'Just try to accept, for one moment, that a human being can
be turned into an Other!' I pleaded with him.

'But why was it done?' Gesar asked. 'I'm willing to believe the
whole thing, but just explain why. To set Olga and me up for a
fall? It doesn't look like it. Everything went without a hitch.'

'I don't know,' I admitted. As I stood up, I added vindictively:
'But if I were you I wouldn't let my guard down, boss. You're used
to your own plots being the subtlest. But there's always more than
one possibility.'

'Smart ass . . .' Gesar said, frowning. 'You get on back to Sveta
. . . Hang on.'

He put his hand into the pocket of his dressing-gown and took
out his mobile phone. It wasn't ringing, just vibrating nervously.

'Just a moment . . .' Gesar said, with a nod to me. And then he
spoke into the phone, in a different voice: 'Yes!'

I tactfully moved away towards the cupboards and started studying
the magical trinkets. Okay, so little models of monsters might serve
to summon up the real thing. But what did he need a Tatar whip
for? Something like Shahab's Lash?

'We'll be right there,' Gesar said curtly. His phone clicked shut.
'Anton!'

When I turned back to face Gesar, he was just finishing getting
changed: as he ran his hands over his body, the dressing-gown and
pyjamas changed their colour and texture and were transformed
into a formal grey suit. With a final flourish of his hand, Gesar
put a grey tie round his neck. Already tied in a neat Windsor knot.
None of this was an illusion – Gesar really had created a suit out
of his pyjamas.

'Anton, we have to take a little journey . . . to the wicked
witch's house.'

'Have they caught her?' I asked, trying to make sense of my
own feelings. I walked over to Gesar.

'No, worse than that. Yesterday evening while they were searching
Arina's house they came across a secret hiding place.' Gesar waved
his hand and a portal appeared, floating in the air. He added
vaguely: 'There's already . . . quite a crowd there. Shall we go?'

'What's in the hiding place?' I exclaimed.

But Gesar was already pushing me into the glowing white oval.

'Brace yourself ' were the final words of advice I heard from
behind me.

The journey through a portal takes a certain amount of time
– seconds, minutes, sometimes even hours. It's not the distance
that matters, but the precision of focus. I didn't know who had
put up the portal in Arina's house, and I didn't know how long
I would be left hanging there in the milky-white void.

A secret hiding place in Arina's house. So what? All the Others
created hiding places for magical objects in their apartments.

What could have startled Gesar like that? The boss had definitely
seemed startled to me – his face had turned far too stony,
too calm and composed.

I started imagining all sorts of horrors, like children's bodies in
the basement. That would be a good reason for Gesar to panic,
especially after being so certain that Arina would never touch
Nadiushka.

No, that was impossible . . .

With that thought I tumbled out of the portal – straight into
the middle of the small room in Arina's house.

It was really crowded in there.

'Move aside!' Kostya shouted and grabbed me by the arm. I
barely had time to take a step before Gesar emerged from the
portal.

'Greetings, Great One!' Zabulon said in a surprisingly polite
voice, with no trace of his usual sarcasm.

I gazed around. Six Inquisitors I didn't know – wearing cloaks,
with the hoods pulled forward over their faces, everything right
and proper. Edgar, Zabulon and Kostya – nothing unexpected
there. Svetlana! I looked at her fearfully, but she immediately shook
her head reassuringly. That meant Nadya was okay.

'Who is conducting the investigation?' Gesar asked.

'A triumvirate,' Edgar replied briskly. 'Myself from the Inquisition,
Zabulon from the Day Watch and . . .' He looked at Svetlana.

'I'll take it from here,' Gesar said with a nod. 'Thank you, Svetlana.
I'm most grateful.'

I didn't need any explanations. Whatever had happened here,
Svetlana had been the first Light One to appear – and she had
begun to act on behalf of the Night Watch.