The Day Watch Part 36

"He really did fall in love with her... yet another half-baked Other." Gesar watched as the expression on Anton's face changed and nodded. "Yes, he fell in love, no doubt about it. So, you're going to Prague. As our representative at the Tribunal. Defender and prosecutor in the same person. I'll give you all the necessary doc.u.mentation in a moment."

"Ah... but..." Anton was confused. "I don't have any experience."

"n.o.body has. But you'll acquire it. My heart tells me that as things develop there are going to be more and more of these... legal conflicts. Instead of honest battle and open combat. And don't you look so worried-I'll probably come to Prague when the session starts. Possibly even with Olga and Svetlana."

"Why bring Svetlana?"

"Maybe we'll be able to prove that Svetlana lost her powers because of a provocation by the Dark Ones and receive permission to restore her."

"How?"

"The same way we did with Igor. The problem isn't that Svetlana can't restore her powers rapidly, in just a few months. She can. The problem is that I can obtain permission for healing a second-or third-level magician, but restoring the powers of a Great Enchantress is an extreme case. To do that, we need direct permission from the Inquisition. And not the Moscow branch-it has to be the European office at least." Gesar raised his mug and smiled. "Prosit, Anton. Let's drink to your success."

"Boris Ignatievich, even now you're still not telling me everything!" Anton almost shouted.

"No, I'm not. Although I've already told you more than I ought to. But if you really want to lie awake all night with insomnia..." Gesar thought carefully. "Then add up together everything that's happened over the last year: the Chalk of Destiny, the death of Alisa Donnikova, the appearance of the Mirror, those ludicrous buffoons the Regin Brothers, and Fafnir's Talon... and the hysteria everywhere over the end of the second millennium."

"But there isn't a single thread connecting all these things," Anton blurted out.

"Then sleep well," Gesar said with a smile.

Late December is a time of frivolity and bustling activity. A time of frantic preparation for the holidays, a time for presents and drinking champagne with colleagues, even during the working day. A time of brilliant illuminations in the streets, a time for New Year tree bazaars. With the approach of Christmas and the New Year, even the eternal confrontation between the Others dies down, and Light Ones and Dark Ones suddenly slip into a short-lived dreamy state and sometimes even feel like forgiving their rivals their old offenses. The less serious and deeply felt ones, that is.

Edgar, the Dark magician, was late for a daily operational briefing for the first time since he had moved to the Russian capital from Estonia. The reason was trivial, but any self-respecting magician would have been ashamed to admit it.

Edgar had been feeding the ducks at the pond on Chisto-prudny Boulevard. He'd surrendered to the memories that had suddenly come flooding back and completely forgotten about the time. He'd got lost in his dreams, like a teenage kid after a gla.s.s of beer. And when he finally surfaced, he realized the briefing had already begun.

If age teaches you anything, then one of its lessons is certainly not to hurry if you're already late, so Edgar didn't rush off to flag down a car or make a headlong dash for the metro. He calmly finished crumbling the bun he'd bought for the mallards darting about nimbly at the e.g. of the unfrozen patch of water or scrambling across the i.e. and only then set off toward the Chistye Prudy metro station, with the Christmas snow crunching cheerfully under his shoes.

Twenty minutes later Edgar entered the Day Watch office without hurrying and with his gravitas still intact. The elderly vampire couple on watch were decorating the New Year tree. They greeted Edgar just the way they were supposed to-meekly and respectfully.

"The chiefs been asking for you," the vampire husband told him. "He said to go see him as soon as you turn up."

"Thank you, Filippich," said Edgar. "Is the boss in his office?"

"He is now."

"Aha. Happy holidays to you!"

"And to you, Edgar."

Edgar rode up to the top floors and sent Zabulon the sign of Hojd through the Twilight.

"Come in," Zabulon replied.

The chief of the Day Watch required the strict observance of hierarchical discipline from his subordinates, but at the same time he somehow managed to respect the freedom of even the shabbiest werewolf among the security guards and to trust the magicians at the top of the Watch. He didn't question Edgar directly about why he'd missed the daily briefing session. If he'd missed it, there must have been a good reason.

But there hadn't been any good reason, and so Edgar thought he'd better simply tell Zabulon the way it was and leave it at that, especially since there hadn't been any serious operations planned for today. If a tricky situation had come up, they would have reached out to him through the Twilight or they could have simply given him a call on his cell, so Edgar wasn't feeling particularly guilty.

"Good evening, chief."

"Good evening, Edgar. How do you like this weather?"

"Snow and no wind. I like it. I'm sorry I missed the planning meeting, chief. There wasn't anything urgent, was there?"

"No. But there will be now."

Zabulon was dressed as usual in his favorite gray suit and gray s.h.i.+rt. Edgar thought he'd never seen the chief dressed any other way. Always a suit and a gray s.h.i.+rt when he was in the ordinary world. And without any clothes at all in his Twilight form.

"Would you believe it, chief, I was daydreaming. Walking on the boulevard at Chistye Prudy, remembering Samara and 1912."

Zabulon gave a faint smile and sang quietly: "The photo studio... Samara wrapped in mist again, it's 1912..."

The chief of the Day Watch had a clear, resonant baritone voice. Even though the Dark magicians had known each other for many years, it was the first time Edgar had ever heard Zabulon sing.

"Were you feeding the ducks?" Zabulon asked.

"Yes."

Zabulon sighed as he indulged his memories briefly. Very briefly. Literally for half a minute. "Okay, Edgar.

Tomorrow you fly to Prague."

"For the Tribunal?"

"Yes. It's going to hear several cases, including Alisa's murder and the Regin Brothers' case."

"But weren't they going to release them tomorrow?" Edgar asked in surprise. "Or have the Light Ones changed their mind?"

"No, they haven't. They've handed the case over to the European office of the Tribunal. And I think Gesar will try to lay the responsibility for what they did at our door. As if we'd planned it. Or incited them."

"But they don't have any evidence! Not a shred!"

"Well, that's why I'm sending you to Prague. You can take a look, see what's what. And don't take it easy on anyone. We've taken enough, we've given way to them over the last two years-it's time we held our heads up higher."

"It was the circ.u.mstances. That's what we gave way to," said Edgar. The prospect of spending Christmas and seeing in the year 2000 in the ancient Gothic city of Prague had really fired his enthusiasm. Edgar loved the solemn city-it was the embodiment of the European spirit, a city where Dark Ones felt free and at ease.

"By the way. You'll probably be flying on the same plane as those Regin Brothers. Take a moment to drop them a hint that the Moscow Day Watch has no intention of abandoning Dark Ones who have suffered on its territory.

Tell them not to panic or lose heart."

"And are we really going to defend them?"

"Yes, we really are. You see, Edgar, I have a few plans that involve that absurd trio. For the time being I need this international alliance... So pay a bit of attention to them as well. The Light Ones will probably set a spy on their trail. Keep an eye on him too. Don't let him interfere. Don't get involved in any unnecessary conflict-just keep him at a distance, that's all."

"I understand, chief."

"Take these," said Zabulon, opening the safe beside the desk and handing Edgar two amulets and a charged wand. "I don't expect you'll need to use the Mist. But just in case... And you know where to recharge the wand."

"At Kostnitsa? At that ossuary?" Edgar asked, reacting immediately.

Zabulon nodded.

"Darkness!" said Edgar, almost feeling envious of himself. "I haven't been there for seventy years!"

"And you can purge yourself at the same time," Zabulon advised him. "Do you know how?"

Edgar frowned. They might be friends, but after all, Zabulon was a magician beyond cla.s.sification, and Edgar hadn't even reached the first level yet, although he obviously had the potential for it. Edgar still had to carry on using his ordinary human name, but on the other hand, his surname had been completely forgotten by now.

"I've mastered the technique. In general terms." It was obvious that Edgar didn't like having to say that.

"Then you can practice it," said Zabulon, closing the subject. "That's all-now go and get ready. If you have any business outstanding, hand it over to someone else. s.h.a.gron or Belashevich."

"I understand, chief. I will."

"Good luck."

Edgar left the chiefs office, then called into his own for a moment, composed a message for s.h.a.gron, and suspended it in the Twilight before he set out for home. On his way out he ran into Alita.

"Hi there, beautiful!"

"h.e.l.lo, Edgar. How would you like to go to the skating rink?"

"I don't have time."

"Oh, come on," said the young witch. "It's almost New Year-what business could you have to deal with? The Light Ones are more concerned with the quality of the champagne that's being made than their usual mean tricks. Holidays are for having fun, not for working."

"That's debatable," Edgar said with a sigh. "But anyway, I don't have time. I'm going away."

"Where to?"

"To Prague."

"Ooh!" Alita said enviously. "For long?"

"I don't know. A week or so..."

"The New Year in Prague!" Alita sighed. "And not just any New Year-the year 2000... Maybe I should go with you."

"Go if you like." Edgar didn't try to dissuade her. "But not with me. I'm not going to have fun..."

He felt a little envious too: If the witch went to Prague, she'd be able to relax with a clear conscience. But Edgar had been on too many of these work trips to entertain any groundless illusions that they wouldn't involve much work.

There was always plenty of work, and especially at holiday times, as bad luck would have it. And during the most important holidays (who would claim that a change in the first figure in the number of the year wasn't an important event?) there was always more work than even the gloomiest prognosis suggested.

On his way home Edgar quickly reviewed the probabilities and established that the morning flight to Prague would be delayed until the evening and he would have to take an afternoon flight with a stopover in Prague. Of course, there weren't any tickets in the ticket office, and he couldn't really count on the special reserve either. But that didn't bother Edgar too much-what could be simpler than the old trick with the double-booked ticket? And, of course, the "right" ticket would turn out to be the one bought by the Other. Even if he only bought it a minute before checkin.

Packing for a trip doesn't take an Other long. Why bother taking things with you when it's simpler to buy them on the way? His entire luggage consisted of the amulets, the wand, and a briefcase containing a solitary magazine and several wads of American currency. Of course, an Other can get everything that money can buy without spending a kopeck or a dime. But it's not worth wasting the Power. And not all interventions are the same.

Manipulate a sales a.s.sistant's mind for a piece of cake, and the Night Watch would nail you for an unsanctioned intervention. That would be just like them.

And apart from that, Edgar would simply have felt sorry for the sales a.s.sistant. The cake wouldn't have bothered him, of course. What if he suddenly needed to steal a jeep from an automobile sales room? People were the Other's foundation. Their feed base and substratum. They should be treated with consideration... And there was no need to worry about that kind of ideology sounding too much like the Light Ones'.

The Dark Ones could tell the difference between treating human beings with consideration and doting on them.

They could tell it very clearly.

Edgar used the night to catch up on his sleep, although it was harder than he expected to get to sleep at such an unusual time. Even as he was sinking into slumber, Edgar regretted that he hadn't gone to the skating rink with Alita.

In the morning Edgar discovered that someone had put a lot of work into improving his natural magical sh.e.l.l, strengthening it and weaving in stiff, tightly connected reinforcing threads. Zabulon, of course, who else? It couldn't be anyone else. Hm... thought Edgar. Could this mission really turn out to be complicated and dangerous? Or is Zabulon simply playing it safe?

Since clashes with the Light Ones had become more frequent, Zabulon had installed personal protection for a lot of the members of the Day Watch. Just where did he get all the energy to maintain so many s.h.i.+elds?

There were probably only two Others in Moscow who knew the answer to that-Zabulon himself and his eternal opponent Gesar. And maybe the Inquisition. At least its top bosses.

s.h.a.gron offered to give Edgar a lift to the airport. It seemed like the newly repaired magician simply enjoyed driving his newly repaired BMW around Moscow when the city was in a holiday mood. The excuse he invented couldn't have been any simpler or more convincing: a briefing on current business. Not that there was much business for Edgar to brief him on. The hysterical response of a thirteen-year-old girl who had discovered that she could enter the Twilight and accidentally looked at herself in a mirror while she was there. Win her confidence, talk some sense into her, support her... an a.s.signment for a beginner. And then there was the gerontophilic succubus who was the laughing stock of half of Biruliovo.

This wasn't even work. It was just a couple of trifling problems. Minor domestic turbulence.

Just as he was walking into the airport terminal, Edgar got a call from another magician high up in the Day Watch-the magician that his colleagues knew as Yury, although he could obviously have used a Twilight name quite openly. s.h.a.gron had one for his special services to the Watch, and Yury was significantly more powerful and much older than s.h.a.gron.

"Hi, Edgar. On your way to Prague?"

"What of it?" Edgar asked, Odessa-style.

"Listen, and don't interrupt. I know a thing or two about the chief's plans. And why you're being sent there. It's not all as simple and clear-cut as it seems at first glance. There are several Light Ones leaving for Prague today and tomorrow, and I wouldn't be surprised if Gesar himself goes there in a few days. There are a few little signs that indicate the Light Ones are setting up a large-scale operation. Of course, Zabulon is planning an appropriate response. So you just be careful. Especially while you're traveling."

Yury stopped, as if he were expecting a reply from Edgar, but Edgar didn't say anything-he remembered he'd been told not to interrupt. He just reached into the Twilight, attempting to locate Zabulon-but he couldn't find the slightest trace of the chief. He couldn't tell where he was, what secret crannies he was lurking in, or what deep levels of the Twilight he was roaming through. The most powerful magicians had their own paths and their own motives, incomprehensible to those around them.

"You remember the chief sent Alisa Donnikova on vacation?" Yury went on. "Remember what happened to her. Of course, you want to know why I'm telling you all this. I'll tell you right now. Because I'm a Dark One. And also because I've worked with you for quite a while already. Take it any way you like, but I'd prefer to see you as a live, healthy Other, and not just another shadow in the Twilight. See you, Edgar."

Edgar stood there for a while, thoughtfully squeezing the cell phone in his hand. Then he put it back on his belt, picked up his briefcase, and set off for the ticket desks.

Darkness! the magician thought to himself. What was that? A warning of some kind? And obviously behind Zabulon's back. And he brought up that business with Alisa...

Zabulon had simply sacrificed the witch Alisa. Coldly and without any unnecessary pity. Like a p.a.w.n in a game of chess. In the games played between the Watches it was absurd to develop any feelings for the faceless figures on the board... but Others know how to feel and love as well. Edgar felt genuinely sorry for Alisa, but he wouldn't have lifted a finger to save her, not even if he had known everything in advance. Every game has its own inflexible rules, set once and for all. And n.o.body who has joined in a game can ever withdraw from it, or go against the rules. The witch Alisa had made her exit, and the witch Alita had made her entry. The law of conservation in action. In fact, Alita promised to be more likeable...

Working on autopilot, Edgar brainwashed the girl at the desk, still absorbed in his own thoughts. She gave him a little blue booklet with his ticket and canceled the ticket of some other unfortunate pa.s.senger. Unfortunately, he would just have to take a later flight, because in the world of people and Others, it was the latter who set the rules. Why did Yury feel the need to warn me? Edgar wondered as he stood at a bar counter with a gla.s.s of beer that was very expensive, but not very good. Surely not out of altruism? n.o.body breaks the rules of the game that way.

He recalled in pa.s.sing that when Zabulon left Moscow, he hadn't left Yury or Nikolai as his deputy in charge, although they were the Day Watch's most powerful Dark magicians after the chief. He had appointed Edgar, who was substantially less powerful than either of them. Yury had already been acknowledged as a magician beyond cla.s.sification in the nineteenth century, and Nikolai just recently, after the war. Edgar still hadn't even reached first level, and if he was honest, he hadn't even mastered the second level completely. Sure, Edgar was a powerful magician. Sure, he was more powerful than most of the Others in Moscow, Dark or Light. But he still couldn't match Yury and Nikolai.

Just why had Zabulon done that? Was Yury trying to take a bit of petty revenge? Out of simple envy? Trying to scare him or even (you could never tell!) simply having a joke at his upstart colleague's expense?

The way Edgar had been brought in from Estonia had been hasty and illogical too. There he was, living a quiet life up in the small Baltic country, running its small, drowsy Day Watch, and then suddenly-slam bang! The urgent summons to Moscow, the mad scramble to get his successor in Tallinn up to scratch-who was a cla.s.sical "hot-headed Estonian boy," barely even fourth level... Edgar ought to give him a call, by the way. And then what had happened in Moscow? Edgar had been thrown straight into the crucible of a hectic two-week operation, and then, not long after that, he'd taken part in a wild cavalry raid to rescue from the Light Ones a witch who'd been practicing without a license. And that was all. After that, there'd been more than three months of routine work until the middle of November, when he'd suddenly been appointed acting chief of the Day Watch while Zabulon was away, and then there'd been the Mirror's visit and the Tribunal at Moscow University.

If he thought about it, it was quite possible that the old Day Watch magicians could try to teach this newcomer from the Baltic a lesson because he was making a career for himself too fast, but they could hardly believe he was actually conspiring to take over from the chief. Zabulon didn't leave Moscow very often. And when Zabulon was there, Edgar was no more than just another operational agent. A powerful one, of course, an elite operative, but he only had the same rights as the others.

By the time his gla.s.s was empty, Edgar had decided to stop guessing at the reasons behind it all. His best bet was to try to figure out a line of conduct that took account of... of everything. Even the very wildest possibilities.