By midday Anton had given up.
He and Igor hadn't drunk any more vodka, despite its remarkable ability to stimulate the imagination. Coffee already made him feel sick. And he didn't feel like drinking any of the wonderful Czech beer either.
Igor was standing by the window with a glass of Dannon drinking yogurt in his hand. He shook his head at Anton's latest suggestion. "No, come on. What sort of dragonslayer would I make? And I thought we'd abandoned the Fafnir scenario?"
"But what if it's right after all?"
"It makes no difference. It's a battle of magic, not a duel with a fire-breathing dragon..." Igor chuckled and added cynically. "And anyway, in a fight between Fafnir the Dragon and a pair of modern battle helicopters, I'd put my money on the choppers. There's no point in any more guessing, Anton. We won't come up with anything."
"But even so, Igor, you're the key."
"But what can we do about it? Nobody ever tells keys which doors they're going to open. Anton, I'm a perfectly ordinary Other. Only Zabulon knows what makes me so important. And Gesar probably knows too. He'll come upstairs and join us in a moment, then we can ask him."
Anton looked through the Twilight and said enviously: "Seriously? Is he already close? I can't sense him..."
"I can't sense him either: I just saw them through the window, walking into the hotel."
There was a gentle tap at the door. Just a token gesture of politeness, no more than that, and a moment later the visitors entered through the Twilight. Gesar, his silent shadow Alisher, and Svetlana. Svetlana was led through the Twilight by the magicians, and she only saw Anton when all three of them emerged from the Twilight into the human world. She smiled and gave a slightly guilty shrug, as if to say: "Just look what I'm like now." Once again Anton was overcome by a miserable feeling of guilt and tenderness, mixed with shame and anger at himself. Even though he'd had no other option but to let the Mirror take away all of Svetlana's Power... And the most important thing was that as a result, Svetlana was still alive... But he couldn't rid himself of the cursed feeling that the game had been lost.
Could Igor really have similar feelings when he remembered Alisa? Similar, but far more bitter? In that case Anton could only be surprised and delighted that he was still alive.
"Good afternoon, lads..." Gesar said in a soft voice.
He was wearing a modest, inexpensive suit and plain tie, looking like a run-of-the-mill businessman who bought his clothes from Marks and Spencer and always sent his employees modest presents for Christmas. In this case, of course, Gesar regarded himself as the very best present...
"Hello, Boris Ignatievich," said Anton. He couldn't bring himself to call this afternoon good. "Hello, Alisher."
He and Sveta simply exchanged glances again and he took her by the hand and led her across to a chair, as if she were an invalid... It was awful.
"Good afternoon, boss," Igor said calmly. "I'm glad to see you. Hello, Sveta. Hi, Alisher."
Gesar's bodyguard (that is, of course, if it was really possible to regard a third-level magician as a bodyguard for a Great Magician)¡ªor, perhaps more accurately, his orderly, the son of a
devona and a human woman¡ªAlisher nodded to the magicians without speaking and moved into the corner of the room, where he froze with his arms crossed on his chest and partially withdrew into the Twilight. Anton sensed that Alisher's ability to observe in the Twilight had been heightened artificially, clearly by the boss. And he also noticed that the young magician was trying not to look at Igor. That was another crazy tangle¡ªAlisher's father had been killed by Alisa Donnikova. And even though he hadn't been a human being or an Other... it was hard to formulate the precise status of a devona, a faithful helper of the Great Magicians. The devona himself did not perform any great feats of heroism, that was not his job. He merely served the heroes, removed minor obstacles from their path. And he strengthened family ties, facilitating the birth of great heroes...
Anton caught his breath.
As a rule, werewolves' children inherited the ability to transform, while magicians' children only became Others very rarely. But how did it work with devonasl
Who was Alisher: simply a magician or a devona like his father, who had been Gesar's assistant in Central Asia for many centuries? And what did the boss need the young Uzbeki magician for? Was it only for sentimental reasons that Gesar had taken him into the Moscow Watch and made him his retainer?
"Anton!"
He looked at Svetlana and only then realized that he was squeezing her hand too hard. "Sorry..."
Gesar was standing in front of Igor, looking into his eyes. He looked for a long time without saying anything. Then he sighed and walked away to a chair, hunched over and looking limp. He sat down and lowered his face into his hands.
"Boris Ignatievich," said Igor, "forgive me."
"No!" Gesar barked, with his hands still over his face, "I won't forgive you! So what if you fell in love with a witch? I won't condemn you for that¡ªthat's destiny. But you've given up on yourself¡ªdon't expect any forgiveness for that!"
Igor was clearly uncomfortable. As Anton looked at him, he suddenly realized he'd accomplished his mission after all. Not by simple, head-on tactics¡ªit would have been stupid to expect to trick an experienced magician and restore his will to live with a simple drinking session and conversations about his friends. It would have been even more stupid to hope to convince him that the woman he loved was simply a repulsive, greedy bitch.
But their long nocturnal conversation, their attempts to understand what was happening and make sense of the latest stage in the war between the Watches had had an effect. Igor had been distracted from his misery and suffering. He had felt he was part of a team again.
Could that have been what Gesar was counting on? In that case, all of his behavior, including the present scene, had been carefully calculated!
But after all, the boss was right, Igor's mind was simply clouded.
"Gesar, there are things that even you have no right to ask!" Igor suddenly said. He said it abruptly, with a reawakened fury. With life in his voice.
"Yes, of course, Captain Igor Teplov." Gesar's voice was as cold as ice. "I have no right. But who had the right to ask you to swim down the Dnieper under fire in November '42? And who had the right..."
"That's different."
"Why is it?" Gesar stood up, walked over to Igor and stopped still in front of him again, a head shorter than Igor, small and wiry, not looking at all heroic. "Do I have to explain to you, Teplov, what a war requires? It's not bodies that a war devours, but souls! And you knew that in the glorious city of Berlin, when you used your knife on that poor snot-nosed kid from the Hitler Jugend to make him give his friends away¡ªyou knew that."
Igor started as if he'd been slapped across the face.
"Conscience... love... honor..." Gesar said thoughtfully. "No one has the right to make anyone go against their conscience. No one has the right to make anyone betray love. No one has the right to persuade anyone to betray their honor. No one.
You're right. But we do it! Of our own accord. When one pan of the scales holds our love, conscience, and honor, and the other holds a million loving, decent, honorable people. We're no angels, that's not for us. And I understand your pain, believe me! But you take a look at Alisher! And try to understand his pain! Ask Anton what he thinks about the one you love. Ask Svetlana."
"I can't condemn Igor," Svetlana said quietly. "I'm sorry, boss. Forgive me, Alisher. Maybe I'm just a fool... unworthy to work in the Watch. But I can understand all of you."
She said this in a very low voice, without any emphasis, but Gesar stopped talking and moved away from Igor. He spread his hands and asked, "Do you think I don't understand?"
The silence in the room was thick and heavy.
"Gesar, when it was my duty, I carried out my orders," Igor suddenly said. "Honestly, right down the line. Regardless of... what I thought or felt. But my duty's done now. I've reached the end of the line."
"No. That's where you're wrong, Igor." Gesar started walking round the room and took a cigar out of his pocket. He looked at it and frowned, put it back and took out a pack of democratic Pall Malls. He crumpled that and gestured in annoyance. "The Watch needs you. We all need you. I need you."
"Svetlana needs me..." Igor remarked casually.
"Svetlana, Alisher, Ilya, Semyon, Bear¡ªall of us!" Gesar said very quickly. "Of course!"
Igor smiled, as if reconciling himself to the fact that he couldn't finish what he wanted to say. And then he suddenly asked in a businesslike, serious voice, "For long?"
"Twenty years at most," Gesar said quite calmly, as if he'd been expecting this question.
"Gesar, do you hope that will be long enough for me to stop loving Alisa?"
"That too," Gesar admitted. "But the Watch needs you right now. In the years immediately ahead."
"What do you want me to do, Gesar?"
"Don't get in our way, Igor. We're going to try to get you out of this. And we will get you out of it, believe me, if you just don't get in our way... or even better, if you help us just a little bit."
Igor thought about it. Then he said, "I won't accuse Alisa Donnikova of enchanting me. It's not true."
"But you can express the suspicion that your meeting was set up by the Moscow Day Watch?"
"Yes, I can," Igor said with a nod. "That's probably the way it was."
"That's enough," said Gesar with a shrug. "I don't ask anything else of you." And he really did look satisfied with that.
Anton cleared his throat and waited for Gesar to look at him. Then he said, "Boris Ignatievich, I'd like to ask you to do something for me. Can you explain what role Igor plays in our latest plot?"
"Just Igor?"
"Yes. What you need Svetlana for, and the devona Alisher, is clear enough already."
The young Uzbeki magician standing stock still in the corner started.
"The new generation's coming along well..." Gesar said in a tired voice. "Shrewd. But stupid at the same time..." He hesitated and looked around at everyone there. Then he shook his head, and Anton sensed the Power spreading around them and flooding the room. The elastic wall was pressing something back, squeezing it out... "I can't tell you," Gesar admitted unexpectedly. "I can't tell you for one simple reason..."
"We'd refuse to cooperate?" Anton asked sharply.
Gesar shook his head. "No. On the contrary. I swear on the Light that what is going on will cause no harm to any of you. Neither to your magical or your human being... In fact, you would cooperate with genuine, sincere zeal. But..."
He was weighing every word now.
"What is taking place now really is the final operation of the Moscow Night Watch. Unfortunately, it is also the final operation of the Day Watch. Too much depends on the actions taken by everyone sitting here, as well as on the actions taken by our en-emies. We are making our moves and our enemies are making theirs. They could be wrong, unsuccessful, mistaken. But the victory will go to those who make the final correct move."
"The victors are never judged," Anton agreed. "And the pieces on a chessboard are not given the right to move independently."
"Zabulon will easily read any move that any of you make!" Gesar barked. "And don't imagine, Anton, that when you rammed the Mirror's car it was a move that hadn't been foreseen! Yes, it was a successful move, the lesser of two evils. But even that was anticipated. By Zabulon... and by me." He paused for breath and went on more calmly: "Folks... to me you are not just pieces on a chessboard. Believe me. You're more than just tools."
"But one of us," said Svetlana with a smile acknowledging that she was the only woman in the room, "is the lathe for producing a tool?"
Anton didn't ask how she had realized. Maybe she'd been drawing up diagrams too¡ªwithout letting even him know? Or maybe she'd already sensed something when she still had her powers?
Gesar paused, lowering his head. He seemed to be thinking hard... And then Anton realized that the strength of the protective cocoon around them had increased to a quite incredible level. Where was the limit to the Power of the Great Magicians? Was there even a limit to it at all?
"All right," Gesar said with a nod. "Svetlana, you're right... but only partly... ah, Light and Darkness!"
He lowered himself into an armchair, took out the cigarettes again, and lit one. He took two drags and started speaking: "Svetlana, you are a Great Enchantress. They're only born every few centuries. Potentially, you're more powerful than Olga... probably... But your value to the Light Ones¡ªand I don't mean just our Watch, but Light Ones in general¡ªis that you can become the mother of the Messiah."
"After Olga rewrote my Book of Destiny," Svetlana said.
"No. Not after that. It's not possible to rewrite the destiny of an Other as easily as the destiny of a human being. It was predetermined from the very beginning. We only corrected a few details. Minor ones. That don't affect you or the future... the prospective child."
"What details?" The anger could suddenly be heard in Svet-lana's voice, the anger she'd restrained for so long. Now it was Anton who wanted to shout out as her fingers dug into the palm of his hand.
"Only the date." Gesar had no intention of giving way to pressure from Svetlana. "Nothing but the date. Two thousand years after the birth of Christ is the peak of human belief in the coming of the Messiah."
"Thank you very much," said Svetlana in a voice trembling with fury. "So you decided when I would have him and who his father would be?"
"In the first place, why 'him'?" Gesar asked.
Anton had been on the point of putting in a few words, mostly to clarify what Svetlana had said about the father, but he choked on this swift rejoinder. Svetlana's hand went limp too.
"For some the father and mother decide, for some it's the drunken obstetrician, for others it's an extra glass of vodka," Gesar said in a melancholy voice. There was no need for him to say "in the second place."
"Svetlana, my child! It's dangerous to play with such forces, with such predetermination. Even I'm not trying to do that. It is predetermined that you can give birth to a daughter who will become the greatest figure in the war between the Light and the Darkness. Her word will change the entire world. Her word will make sinners repent. At a glance from her the greatest magicians of Darkness will go down on their knees."
"It's only a probability..." Svetlana whispered.
"Of course. There is no fate¡ªwhich is both unfortunate and fortunate. But you must believe that an old, weary magician is doing everything he can to make it a reality."
"I should have stayed a human being..." Svetlana whispered. "I should have..."
"Have you looked at any icons recently?" Gesar asked. "Look into Mary's eyes and think why they're always so sad."
The room was very quiet.
"I've already told you more than I have any right to." Gesar spread his arms in a guilty shrug, and for the first time ever it seemed to Anton that he wasn't acting at all. "But I have told you, I've put one foot over the line of what is permissible. It's up to you to decide. To think who is a figure on a chessboard, and who is a rational individual, capable of seeing past imaginary offenses."
"Imaginary?" Svetlana asked bitterly.
"When they explained that you had to wash your hands after playing in the sandpit or made you tie the ribbon on your braid in a bow¡ªthat was interference in your destiny too," said Gesar. "And I think it was justified."
"You're not my father, Boris Ignatievich!" said Svetlana.
"No, of course not. But to me, you're all my children..." Gesar sighed. "I'll wait for you in the hall... that is, Alisher and I will wait. Join us if you want to."
He went out, and the devona followed him like a shadow.
Igor was the first to say anything. "What hurts most is that he's right about some things."
"If you'd been told that you have to give birth to a Messiah, then I'd talk to you about what's right or wrong," Svetlana replied abruptly.
"That would be rather, well... difficult for me," Igor admitted in an embarrassed voice.
Anton was the first to smile. He looked at Svetlana and said, "Listen... I remember how indignant you were about the injustice of destiny¡ªthat generally speaking, Others only have children who are ordinary people..."
"That was just an abstract indignation..." said Svetlana, throwing her hands up in the air. "Boys, I think someone's already been smoking in here..."
Igor handed her a cigarette without speaking.
"Why do everything like that, behind our backs," Svetlana complained as she lit her cigarette. "And what sort of mother would I make... for a Messiah? And a female one at that!"
"Well, Messiah is just the appropriate term, that's all," said Igor. "Relax."
"I'm no virgin!" Svetlana declared gloomily. "And in general... I don't think of myself as a paragon of virtue..."
"Don't draw irrelevant parallels."
Strangely enough, Igor seemed to have calmed down. For real. He was sharp and focused.
"Anton, why don't you say something!" Svetlana burst out. "Doesn't all this concern you at all?"
"I very much hope that it concerns me directly," replied Anton. "And I think we ought to go out now and join Gesar. It's tough on him sitting out there and waiting."
"He already knows everything... in advance..." Svetlana said and turned away.
"No. He doesn't. If we're really not pawns, he doesn't know."
There was the soft sound of guitar strings. Igor was leaning against the wall, holding the instrument. He began singing so softly that Svetlana and Anton both had to stop talking.
The devils ask me to serve,
But I serve no one.
Even myself, even you,
Even the one who has power.
If he is still alive,
I do not serve even him.
I have stolen just enough fire
Not to need to steal any more...
Igor held the guitar out and gently lowered it into an armchair. People put their instrument down like that when they're sure they'll be back soon.
"Shall we go then?"
Edgar was the first Dark One to enter the Tribunal's meeting hall. That was the procedure. He entered through one door at the same time as Anton came in through the door opposite. They bowed their heads to each other in a polite greeting. Edgar did not feel any particular resentment for the Light One and he expected the feeling to be mutual to some extent.
Yes, compared to the small, neglected room in Moscow University, this hall certainly made an impression. This was Europe, after all.
Stone vaulting¡ªheavy and oppressive, but at the same time giving a sense of security and calm. A simple metal chandelier, but with about two hundred candles, and Edgar could have sworn the candles had been burning for more than one century already. They said the Berne department of the Inquisition was located in an ultramodern building, but the Prague department was in a truly ancient one.
Edgar liked the old style better.
The round hall was divided into two parts: One was faced with light marble, the other with dark. There was something at once naive and exalted in this simple visual representation of the two Powers. The little desks for the prosecutors stood at the center, beside a circular metal grille covering a dark hole in the floor.
A wedge of gray marble reached almost to the very center of the hall. That was the Inquisitors' area, and they, of course, were already in their seats. Seven of them. In principle the Inquisition was not regarded as a power equal to the two Watches, but Edgar knew that those seven included two Great Ones¡ªone Dark and one Light. If it wished, the European office could probably fight Gesar and Zabulon on equal terms.
That was good to know.
Anton was followed in by three Light Ones from Moscow. Gesar... well, of course, where would they be without Gesar! Svetlana... that was natural too. And that Uzbeki, Gesar's secretary or personal assistant.
The Dark Ones were already walking along the corridor behind Edgar. Zabulon... Sensing the approach of his chief, Edgar involuntarily looked round¡ªand received a friendly nod from the head of Moscow's Dark Ones. Well, well... smile, you Judas ... you're even worse than Judas: He betrayed his teacher, but you're betraying your disciple!
But then another two Dark Ones followed Zabulon into the hall. Edgar had been prepared to see Anna Lemesheva, but not Yury, who winked mockingly at him. The same Yury who had given Edgar the timely warning about Zabulon's underhand schemes¡ªhe hadn't been prepared for that!
Edgar forced himself to turn away from his colleagues and look straight ahead.
Igor was brought in last. Two rank-and-file Inquisitors walked in beside him and accompanied him to the circular grille, three meters across, in the center of the hall.
There was no special magic in that circle, or at least Edgar couldn't sense any. And the mechanism that had once been used to invert the grille and plunge the accused into a deep well shaft looked as if it had rusted up long ago and was no longer used. But even so it didn't look as if standing on that circle was pleasant.
However, Igor paid no attention to that and stood in the center of the circle with his arms crossed on his chest.
"In the name of the Treaty..."
One Inquisitor came forward from the group. The only one who was not wearing gray robes. Witezslav, the Higher Vampire.
"We are Others. We serve different Powers..."
Edgar mechanically repeated the words of the Treaty, trying to work out what Witezslav would start with. And how he could extricate himself from this mess now.
"Today the European Tribunal of the Inquisition has to consider a claim brought by the Night Watch of the city of Moscow, Russia, against the Day Watch of the city of Moscow, Russia," the vampire announced after the reading of the Treaty. "A counterclaim by the Day Watch of Moscow against the Night Watch of Moscow forms part of the proceedings. Its subject is the duel between the Light magician Igor Teplov, and the Dark witch Alisa Donnikova..."
There were no surprises so far... Edgar felt himself clutching the dark, cool wooden top of his desk and made an effort of will to calm himself down. After all, he was an experienced lawyer. And how were legal proceedings between people any different from legal proceeding between Others?
Except, of course for the nature of the sentence...
"However, the sequence of proceedings will be changed somewhat," said Witezslav. "The Tribunal is also obliged to resolve another two matters connected with the main claim. The first concerns a sect of Dark Ones who call themselves the Regin Brothers, who are guilty of attacking the Inquisition's vault and stealing the artifact known as Fafnir's Talon, smuggling it into Russia, and resisting the Night Watch of Moscow. Bring in the accused."
Another two young Inquisitors led in the four Finns. Faint smiles appeared on the faces of all the Others present¡ªafter all, it was impossible to imagine a more ludicrous-looking quartet.
"There is probably no need to recite the circumstances of the incident," said the vampire. "Everyone present is familiar with the materials collected by the Inquisition on this case. The Inquisition's job is to pronounce judgment. Just, impartial, and strict."
It was clear from the expressions on the faces of the four accused that they were not anticipating leniency.
"The punishment for a crime as grave as attacking employees of the Inquisition and stealing a highly dangerous artifact from the vault is unconditional¡ªdematerialization," the vampire declared. He paused and then added something that made the Finns lift up their heads: "But... But the accused did not participate directly in the incident in Berne. As the materials of the case make clear, the leaders of the sect, who unfortunately were killed while being detained, made the four young magicians act as couriers. Therefore, the Inquisition qualifies their actions only as smuggling and resisting the Night Watch of
Moscow. There are also extenuating circumstances: profound and sincere remorse, assistance rendered to the investigation after detention, the youth of the accused, and the absence of any previous offenses. If the Night Watch of Moscow can adduce any further extenuating circumstances and will withdraw the personal accusations against the Dark magicians, the Inquisition has the right to mitigate its sentence."
Gesar stood up to speak for the Light Ones. He spread his hands in a broad gesture. "The Night Watch of Moscow has no... personal charges to bring against the accused. In addition, we believe that the leadership of the sect of the Regin Brothers was provoked into committing its crime by a certain... a certain unidentified Dark magician."
"That has not been proved," said Witezslav.
"Only the identity of the provocateur has not been established," Gesar said with a smile. "The fact of his existence is in no doubt."
Witezslav nodded and turned to face his six colleagues. For a few moments the Inquisitors shared their thoughts with each other without speaking. Then Witezslav looked back to the four motionless Finns. "In the name of the Treaty, bearing in mind the clement attitude of the Night Watch, the absence of any grave consequences, and the other extenuating circumstances, the Inquisition offers you the right to choose your punishment. The first option¡ªyou are condemned to death by hanging but your civil rights will not be affected..."
The large young black man sighed heavily and the Chinese and the Finn grabbed his elbows and held him up.
"The second possible punishment is that from this day until the end of your lives you will be forbidden to use magic. You will have the right to live ordinary human lives, without using magical means to prolong or improve the quality of those lives."
The Finns looked at the Inquisitor, stunned. Zabulon giggled shrilly, but immediately assumed a serious expression.
"The second... the second!" Yukha Mustajoki said in a choking voice. The others nodded.
"Does anyone present have any objections?" Witezslav asked.
Gesar got to his feet again. "As a small gesture of goodwill... we consider it possible to permit the accused to use magic... minor magic... with inanimate objects." It seemed as if Gesar had to struggle to pronounce every word, that he was forcing himself to show mercy. "Say, to find some... small item... that's been lost... a key or a coin... To drive the flies out of a room... according to the regulations, flies are regarded as inanimate, are they not? To clean the carburetor in a car..."
The vampire's face expressed faint surprise.
He doesn't understand, Edgar thought.
"The Inquisition has no objections..." the vampire said eventually. "Apply the seals to the accused!"
Two Inquisitors raised their right hands, and fine threads of glimmering energy streamed through the air toward the accused. The seals were applied permanently, leaving the condemned prisoners capable of only the very weakest forms of magic. Probably the Inquisitors really hadn't understood that Gesar's unexpected kindness had only made the punishment worse. It was one thing to be completely deprived of all magic and gradually come to terms with life as a human being. It was quite different to feel every day that you were a helpless cripple who had to manage with a pale shadow of your former abilities.
But then, the Finns hadn't thought about that yet. They were led out of the hall, absolutely crazy with happiness. Yukha kept trying to break away and shake everybody's hand, but the vigilant guards forced him to walk out simply by nudging and shoving him.
Edgar shook his head. He actually felt quite glad that the Dark Brothers had been saved. But what a price to pay... He would probably have preferred a quick death.
"The next matter for this hearing to consider has not been announced in advance," said Witezslav. "The Inquisition requests the leader of the Night Watch of Moscow, known under the name of Gesar, to step into the circle of the accused..."
Zabulon smiled in triumph.
"And also the leader of the Day Watch of Moscow, known under the name of Zabulon."