And now I could have a second-level intervention for free, or as good as.
«May the Light bear witness to my words,» I said, and held my hand out to Zabulon.
It was the first time I'd ever called on the primordial powers to witness anything. I only knew it didn't require any special incantations. And there was no real guarantee that the Light would deign to become involved in our affairs.
A petal of white flame flared up on my open palm.
Zabulon winced, but he didn't take his hand away. We sealed the agreement with a handshake, the Darkness and the Light coming together. I felt a stab of pain, like a blunt needle piercing my flesh.
«The agreement is sealed,» said the Dark Magician.
He frowned too. He had also felt the pain.
«Do you hope to gain from this?» I asked.
«Of course. I always hope to gain. And I usually do.»
At least Zabulon wasn't obviously delighted with the deal we'd made. Whatever he might be hoping for as a result of our agreement, he wasn't completely certain of success.
«I've found out what the courier brought to Moscow from the East and why.»
Zabulon smiled gently.
«Excellent. I find the situation upsetting, and it is a great relief to know that now my concern will be shared by others.»
«Zabulon, has there ever been a single case when the Night Watch and the Day Watch collaborated? Genuine collaboration, not just catching violators and psychopaths?»
«No. In any collaboration one side or the other would be the loser.»
«I'll bear that in mind.»
«You do that.»
We even bowed politely to each other. As if we weren't two magicians on opposite sides, an agent of the Light and a servant of the Darkness, but two acquaintances who got along perfectly well.
Then Zabulon went back to Alisa's motionless body, lifted it up easily, and threw it across his shoulder. I was expecting him to withdraw from the Twilight, but instead of that the leader of the Dark Ones gave me a condescending smile and stepped into the portal. It remained visible for a moment, and then began to fade. I was going a different way.
It was only then I realized how tired I felt. The Twilight likes it when we enter it, and it likes it even more when we're agitated. The Twilight's an insatiable whore, glad to take on anyone.
I chose a spot where there weren't many people and tore myself out of my shadow.
The eyes of the people walking by swung away in the usual way. You meet us so often during the day, you humans… Light Ones and Dark Ones, magicians and werewolves, witches and healers. You look at us, but you're not allowed to see us. May it always be that way.
We can live for hundreds and thousands of years. We're very hard to kill. And for us the problems that make up human life are no more than a primary-school pupil's distress at his bad handwriting.
But there's a downside to everything. I'd gladly trade places with you, humans. Take this ability to see the shadow and enter the Twilight. Take the protection of the Watch and the ability to influence people's minds.
Give me the peace of mind that I have lost forever!
Someone jostled me to get me out of the way. A tough-looking young guy with a shaved head, a cell phone on his belt, and a gold chain around his neck. He looked me up and down disdainfully, muttered something through his teeth, and swaggered on down the street. The girlfriend clinging to his arm made a rather unsuccessful attempt to imitate his glance, the kind that petty gangsters use for jerks who are a «soft touch.»
I laughed out loud. Yes, I probably looked a fine sight! Standing stock still in the middle of the street, apparently ogling at a stand covered with ugly bronze figurines, wooden matryoshka dolls with politicians' faces, and fake Khokhloma painted boxes.
I had the right to shake up the entire street. To perform a mass remoralization—then the guy with the shaven head would take a job as an orderly in a mental hospital and his girlfriend would dash to the train station and go to see the old mother she'd managed to forget, somewhere out in the sticks.
I wanted to do good—my hands were just itching to do it!
And that was why I mustn't.
The heart might be pure and the hands might be hot, but the head still had to be cool.
I was an ordinary, rank-and-file Other. I didn't have the power granted to Gesar or Zabulon, and I never would have. Maybe that was why I took a different view of what was happening. And I couldn't even use this unexpected gift—the right to use Light magic. That would be joining in the game that was being played out above my head.
My only chance was to drop out of the game.
And take Svetlana with me.
And in the process ruin the operation the Night Watch had been preparing for so long! Stop being a field agent of the Watch! Become an ordinary Light Magician, using mere crumbs of my powers. That was in the best case, of course—in the worst case scenario it was the eternal Twilight for me.
Today, today at midnight.
Where? And who? Whose Book of Destiny would the sorceress open? Olga had said they'd been planning the operation for twelve years. Twelve years spent searching for a Great Sorceress who could use the little piece of chalk that had been kept safe all that time. Stop!
I could have howled out loud at my own stupidity. But my expression probably said it all for me anyway, and why put it into words if it's already written on your face?
Higher magicians plan many moves ahead. There are no accidents in their games. There are queens and there are pawns. But there are no superfluous pieces!
Egor!
The boy who had almost become a victim of illegal hunting. Who'd entered the Twilight in a state of mind that had nudged him toward the Dark Side. The boy whose destiny was still not determined, whose aura still had all the colors of a child's. A unique case. I'd been amazed when I saw him for the first time.
I'd been amazed, and then forgotten the moment I found out the kid's powers had been artificially increased by the boss to mislead the Dark Ones and allow Egor to offer at least some resistance to the vampires.
And for me he'd become a personal failure—after all, I was the first one to discover he was an Other—and a good person, at least so far, and a future enemy in the eternal struggle between Good and Evil. The memory of his undecided destiny had remained buried somewhere deep under all the rest.
He could still become absolutely anyone. His future potential was indeterminate. An open book. A Book of Destiny.
He was the one who would stand in front of Svetlana when she picked up the piece of chalk. And he would do it gladly, once Gesar had explained what it was all about. A serious, logical explanation. The boss of the Night Watch, the leader of the Light Ones of Moscow, a great and ancient magician—he'd be able to explain everything clearly. Gesar would talk about correcting mistakes. And it would be the truth. Gesar would talk about the great future that would open up for Egor. And even that would be true! The Dark Ones could lodge a thousand protests, but the Inquisition would certainly take into account that the boy had initially suffered from their actions.
Svetlana would certainly be told that I was depressed by my failure with Egor. And that the main reason the boy had suffered was because the Watch had been busy saving her.
She wouldn't even hesitate.
She'd accept everything she was told to do.
She'd pick up the piece of ordinary chalk that could be used to draw squares for hopscotch in the street or to write «2 + 2 = 4» on a school blackboard.
And she'd start shaping a destiny that hadn't been defined yet.
What were they planning to make him into?
Who?
A chief, the leader of new parties and revolutions?
A prophet of religions that hadn't been invented yet?
A thinker who would found a new school of social thought?
A musician, a poet, a writer, whose work would alter the consciousness of millions?
Just how many years into the future did the plan of the powers of Light extend?
The original essential nature of an Other could not be changed. Egor would always be a very weak magician, but thanks to the intervention of the Night Watch, he would be a Light Magician.
And in order to alter the destiny of the human world, you didn't have to be an Other. It could even get in the way. It would be much better to have the support of the Watch while you led the human crowd that was so much in need of the happiness we had invented for it.
And he would lead them. I didn't know how, and I didn't know where, but he would lead them. But that was when the Dark Ones would make their move. An assassin can be found for every president. And for every prophet there are a thousand interpreters to distort the essence of the religion, to replace the bright flame with the heat of the inquisitors' pyres. The time came when every book was cast into the fire, when every symphony was reduced to a popular tune and played in all the drinking dens. A sound philosophical basis could be set in place under any vile nonsense.
No, we hadn't learned a thing. Probably because we didn't want to.
But at least I still had a bit of time in hand. And the right to make my move. My only move.
If only I knew what it was.
Should I appeal to Svetlana not to accept what Gesar said, not to get involved in higher magic, not to change anyone else's destiny?
But why should she agree? Everything was being done correctly. Mistakes that had been made were being put right, a happy future was being created for a single individual and humanity as a whole. I was being relieved of the burden of the mistake I'd made. Svetlana was being relieved of the knowledge that her good fortune had been paid for by someone else's tragedy. She was entering the ranks of the Great Sorceresses. What did my vague doubts mean compared to all that? And what were they really?
How much of them was genuine concern, and how much petty self-interest? Where was the Light, where was the Darkness?
«Hey, friend!»
The street trader who owned the stall I was standing in front of was staring at me. Not really an angry look, just a bit annoyed.
«You buying anything?»
«Do I look like an idiot?» I asked him.