I threw Egor aside—my muscles almost refused to obey me; they didn't want to do something so absurd and suicidal. For the boy, the little Black Magician, the dagger meant death. For me, it meant life. That's the way it always has been and always will be.
What means life for a Dark One means death for a Light One, and vice versa. Who was I to change…
I wasn't too slow.
Egor fell, banged his head against the door, and slid down into a sitting position—I'd pushed him too hard. But I was more concerned about saving him than about any bruises he might get. Maxim's eyes glittered with almost childish resentment, but he could still talk.
«He's an enemy!»
«He hasn't done anything!»
«You're defending the Darkness.»
Maxim wasn't arguing about whether I was Dark or Light. He could see that well enough.
It's just that he was whiter than white. And he'd never had to decide who should live and who should die.
The dagger was raised again. Not aimed at the boy this time, but at me. I dodged away, looked for my shadow, summoned it, and it rushed obediently toward me.
The world turned gray, sounds disappeared, movements slowed. Egor stopped squirming and became completely motionless; the cars crept along the street uncertainly, with their wheels turning in spurts; the branches of the trees forgot about the wind. But Maxim didn't slow down.
He'd followed me in, without knowing what he was doing. Slipped into the Twilight as easily as someone stepping off the road onto the curb. It was all the same to him now; he was drawing strength from his own certainty, his own hate, his lighter-than-light hate, the fury of the color white. He wasn't the executioner of the Dark Ones any longer. He was an Inquisitor. And he was far more terrifying than our Inquisition.
I threw my arms out, spreading my fingers in the sign of Power, simple and foolproof—how the young Others laugh when they're shown that move for the first time. Maxim didn't even stop—he staggered a bit, then put his head down stubbornly and came for me again. I began to get the picture and backed away, desperately running through the magic arsenal in my mind.
Agape—the sign of love. He didn't believe in love.
The triple key—a sign that engendered trust and understanding. He didn't trust me.
Opium—a lilac symbol, the path of sleep. I felt my own eyelids starting to close.
That was how he defeated the Dark Ones. Combined with the powers of an Other, his furious faith acted like a mirror, reflecting back any blow aimed at him. It raised him up to his opponent's level. In combination with his ability to see the Darkness and his ridiculous magical dagger, it made him almost invulnerable.
He couldn't reflect everything like that, though. The reflected blows didn't come back immediately. The sign of Thanatos or the white sword would probably work.
But if I killed him, I'd kill myself. Set myself on the one road that we all come to in the end—into the Twilight. Into the faded dreams and colorless visions, the eternal, chilly haze. He'd found it so easy to see me as an enemy, but I wouldn't be strong enough to see him that way.
We circled around each other, with Maxim sometimes making clumsy rushes at me—he'd never been in a real fight before; he was used to killing his victims quickly and easily. From somewhere far away I could hear Zabulon's mocking laughter. His soft, wheedling voice.
«So you wanted to play a game against the Darkness? Play, then. You have everything you need. Enemies, friends, love, hate. Choose your weapon. Any of them. You already know what the outcome will be. Now you know.»
Maybe I imagined the voice. Or maybe I really did hear it.
«You're killing yourself too!» I shouted. The holster was flapping against my body, begging to be noticed, begging me to take the pistol out and fire a swarm of little silver wasps at Maxim. As easily as I'd done it with my namesake.
He didn't hear me—he wasn't capable of hearing me.
Svetlana, you wanted so much to know where our barriers are, where the line that we mustn't cross when we fight the Darkness runs. Why aren't you here now? You could have seen for yourself.
But there was no one anywhere near. No Dark Ones to revel in the sight of our duel. No Light Ones to help me, to jump on Maxim and pin him down, to put an end to our deadly dance in the Twilight. No one but a young kid and future Dark Magician, getting up clumsily off the ground, and an implacable executioner with a stony face—a self-appointed paladin of the Light who'd sown as much evil as a dozen werewolves or vampires.
I raked my fingers through the cold mist, gathering it into my hand, let it soak into my fingers. And directed a little more Power into my right hand.
A blade of white fire sprouted from my hand. The Twilight hissed and burned. I raised the white sword, a simple weapon, reliable. Maxim froze.
«Good or Evil,» I said, feeling a wry grin appear on my face. «Come to me. Come, and I'll kill you. You might be lighter than Light, but that's not the point.»
With anybody else it would have worked. No doubt about it. I can imagine how it must feel to see a sword of fire appear out of nowhere for the first time. But Maxim came for me.
He took those five steps across the space between us. Calmly, not even frowning, without looking at the white sword. And I stood there, repeating to myself the words that I'd spoken so confidently out loud.
Then the wooden dagger slid in under my ribs.
In his lair somewhere far, far away, the head of Day Watch burst out laughing.
I collapsed onto my knees, then fell on my back. I pressed my palm against my chest. It hurt, but so far that was all. The Twilight squealed indignantly at the scent of living blood and began thinning out.
This was terrible!
Or was this my only way out? To die?
Svetlana wouldn't have anyone to save now. She'd travel on along her long and glorious road, but someday even she would have to enter the Twilight forever.
Did you know this was going to happen, Gesar? Is this what you were hoping for?
The colors came back into the world. The dark colors of night. The Twilight had rejected me, spat me out in disgust. I was half-sitting, half-lying on the ground, squeezing the bleeding wound with my hand.
«Why are you still alive?» Maxim asked.
That note of resentment was back in his voice; he was almost pouting. I felt like smiling, but the pain stopped me. He looked at the dagger and raised it again, uncertainly this time. The next moment Egor was there, standing between us, shielding me from Maxim. This time even the pain couldn't stop me from laughing.
A future Dark Magician saving a Light One from another Light One!
«I'm alive because your weapon is good only against the Darkness,» I said. I heard an ominous gurgling sound in my chest. The dagger hadn't reached my heart, but it had punctured a lung. «I don't know who gave it to you, but it's a weapon of Darkness. Against me it's just a sliver of wood, but even that hurts.»
«You're a Light One,» said Maxim.
«Yes.»
«He's a Dark One.» The dagger slowly turned to point at Egor.
I nodded and tried to tug the kid out of the way. He shook his head stubbornly and stayed where he was.
«Why?» asked Maxim. «Tell me why, eh? You're Light, he's Dark…«
And then even he smiled for the first time, though it wasn't a very happy smile.
«Then who am I? Tell me that.»
«I'd say you're a future Inquisitor,» said a voice behind me. «I'm almost certain of it. A talented, implacable, incorruptible Inquisitor.»
I smiled ironically and said:
«Good evening, Gesar.»
The boss gave me a nod of sympathy. Svetlana was standing behind him, and her face was as white as chalk.
«Can you hold on for five minutes?» the boss asked. «Then I'll deal with your little scratch.»
«Sure I can,» I agreed.
Maxim was staring at the boss with crazy eyes.
«I don't think you need to worry,» the boss said to him. «If you were an ordinary poacher, the Tribunal would have you executed—you've got too much blood on your hands, and the Tribunal is obliged to maintain a balance. But you're magnificent, Maxim. They can't afford to just toss someone like you away. You'll be set above us, above Light and Darkness, and it won't even matter which side you came from. But don't get your hopes up. That isn't power. It's hard labor. Drop the dagger!»
Maxim flung the weapon to the ground as if it were burning his fingers. This was a real magician, well beyond the likes of me.
«Svetlana, you passed the test,» the boss said, looking at her. «What can I say? Grade three for self-control and restraint. No doubt about it.»
I supported myself on Egor and tried to get up. I wanted to shake the boss's hand. He'd played the game his own way again. By using everybody who was there to be used. And he'd outplayed Zabulon—what a pity the Dark Magician wasn't there to see it! How I'd have liked to see his face, the face of the demon who'd turned my first day of spring into a nightmare.
«But…« Maxim started to say something, then stopped. He was overwhelmed by too many new impressions. I knew just how he was feeling.
«Anton, I was certain, absolutely certain that you and Svetlana could handle it,» the boss said gently. «The most dangerous thing of all for a sorceress with the kind of power she's been given is to lose self-control. To lose sight of the fundamental criteria for the fight against Darkness, to act in haste or to hesitate for too long. And this is one stage of the training that should never be put off.»
Svetlana finally stepped toward me and took me gently by the arm. She looked at Gesar, and just for a moment her face was a mask of fury.
«Stop it,» I said. «Sveta, don't. He's right. Today, for the very first time, I understood where the boundary line runs in our fight. Don't be angry. This is only a scratch,» I said, taking my hand away from my wound. «We're not like ordinary people; we're a lot tougher.»
«Thank you, Anton,» said the boss. Then he looked at Egor: «And thank you too, kid. I really hate the idea that you'll be on the other side of the barricades, but I was sure you'd stand up for Anton.»
The boy tried to move toward Gesar, but I kept hold of his shoulder. It would be awkward if he blurted out his resentment! He didn't understand that everything Gesar had done was only a countermove.
«There's one thing I regret, Gesar,» I said. «Just one. That Zabulon isn't here. That I didn't see his face when the whole box of tricks fell apart.»
The boss didn't answer right away.