«I think it's going to,» I told him.
«Great.»
We nodded to each other and I walked away, slipping into the stream of people.
I didn't know what to do, but I already knew where to go. And that was a good start.
Chapter 7
Our powers are borrowed to a large extent.
The Dark Ones draw theirs from the suffering of others. Things are a lot simpler for them. They don't even have to cause people any pain. They can just wait. Just keep their eyes open and keep sipping away at people's suffering, like drinking a cocktail through a straw.
We can do the same, only with one small difference. We can draw strength from people who are feeling good, when they're happy. But there's one little difficulty that makes the process easy for the Dark Ones and almost forbidden to us. Happiness and sorrow are not just two levels on a single scale of human emotions. If they were, there'd be no such thing as radiant sorrow or malicious joy. They're two parallel processes, two equal currents of Power, which Others can feel and use.
When a Dark Magician drinks in someone's pain, it only increases.
When a Light Magician takes someone's joy, it decreases.
We can absorb power at any moment. But we very rarely allow ourselves to do it.
That day I decided that I was entitled.
I took a little bit from a couple locked in each other's arms at the entrance to the metro. They were happy, very happy just then. But I could tell that the lovers were parting, and for a long time, and sadness would inevitably come to them anyway. I decided I had a right to do it. Their joy was bright and rich, like a bouquet of scarlet roses, proud and delicate.
I touched a child as he ran past—he was happy; he didn't feel the oppressive heat; he was running to buy an ice cream. He would soon restore his power. It was as simple and pure as wild flowers. A bouquet of daisies that I gathered without hesitation.
I saw an old woman in a window. The shadow of death was already hovering over her, she could probably sense it herself. But she was still smiling. Her grandson had come around to see her that day. Probably only to check if his grandmother were still alive, or if the expensive apartment in the center of Moscow were free now. She understood that too, but she was still happy. I felt ashamed, unbearably ashamed, but I touched her and took a little Power. A fading orange and yellow bouquet of asters and autumn leaves…
I walked along just as I used to in my nightmares, when I handed out happiness to everyone on all sides, making sure no one went away without his share. But the trail I left behind me now was quite different. Slightly faded smiles, wrinkled foreheads, lips pressed together in doubt.
It was pretty easy to see where I'd been.
If I met a Day Watch patrol, they wouldn't stop me.
And even if any Light Ones saw what was happening, they wouldn't say anything.
I was doing what I thought was necessary. What I believed I had a right to do. Borrowing. Stealing. And the way I used the Power I'd taken would seal my destiny.
Either I'd pay back all my debts in full.
Or the Twilight would open its arms to embrace me.
When a Light Magician starts drawing Power from humans, he's gambling everything on a single throw of the dice. And the usual balancing of accounts between the actions of the two Watches didn't apply.
Not only did the amount of Good that was done have to exceed the amount of Evil I had caused; I would have to be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'd paid everything back in full.
The lovers, the children, the old people. The group drinking beer by the statue. I'd been afraid their happiness might turn out to be a sham, but it was genuine, and I took their Power.
Forgive me.
I could apologize to every one of them three times over. I could pay for what I'd taken. But I wouldn't really mean it.
I was simply fighting for my love. In the first place. And only after that for you, the humans for whom this new happiness was being prepared.
But what if I was really doing that as well?
What if, every time you fought for your love, you were fighting for the whole world?
For the whole world—not against the whole world.
Power!
Power.
Power?
I gathered it in crumbs, sometimes gently, sometimes in crude haste, to prevent my hand from trembling and my eyes from looking away in shame, as I took almost all there was.
Maybe happiness was a rare experience anyway for this young guy?
I didn't know.
Power!
Maybe without this smile, this woman would lose someone's love?
Power.
Maybe tomorrow this strong man with the ironic smile would die!
Power.
The amulets in my pockets wouldn't be of any use. There wasn't going to be a fight. The «top form» the boss had mentioned wouldn't help me either. That wouldn't be enough. And the right to carry out a second-level intervention that Zabulon had granted me so generously was a trap. There wasn't a shred of doubt about that. He'd framed his own girlfriend, drawn the lines of probability together so that we'd meet, and then handed me his deadly gift with a mournful expression on his face. I couldn't see far enough into the future to be sure the Good I did would never become Evil.
But if you have no weapon—accept one, even from the hands of your enemy.
Power!
Power.
Power!
If I'd still been connected with Gesar by the slim thread that maintains contact between a young magician and his mentor, he would have sensed what was happening a long time ago. Sensed the energy building up inside me, the massive energy I'd gathered for some unknown purpose.
What would he have done?
It made no sense to try to stop a magician who had started down this path.
I was walking in the direction of the Economic Exhibition metro station. I knew where it was all going to happen. Coincidences aren't coincidences when they're controlled by higher magicians. The absurd «house on stilts,» the matchbox standing on its end—that was where Zabulon had lost the battle for Svetlana; that was where Gesar had unmasked the Light Magician he'd placed in the Inquisition, teaching Svetlana a lesson in the process.
The focus of Power for the whole complex maneuver.
For the third time.
I didn't feel like eating or drinking at all, but I stopped once, bought a coffee and drank it. It was tasteless, as if the last drop of caffeine had been filtered out of it. People started making way for me, even though I was walking in the ordinary world. The magical tension around me was rising.
There was no way I could conceal my approach.
But I didn't want to creep up on them anyway.
A pregnant young woman was walking along the sidewalk cautiously. I shuddered when I saw that she was smiling. And I almost turned away when I realized that her unborn child was smiling too in its own safe little world.
Their Power was like pale-pink peonies—a large blossom and round bud that hadn't unfolded yet.
I had to gather what I found along my way.
With no hesitation or pity.
There was something happening in the world around me too.
The heat seemed to have got stronger. In a single desperate surge.
The Dark and the Light Magicians must have had good reason to spend all those days trying to disperse the heat. Something was going to happen. I stopped and looked up at the sky through the twilight.
Subtle, twisted coils of swirling air.
Sparks on the horizon.
Gloom in the southeast.
A glowing nimbus round the needle of the Ostankino television tower.
It was going to be a strange night.
I touched a little girl running by and took the naive joy she felt because her father had come home sober. Like snapping off a briar branch, prickly and fragile.