Zabulon nodded:
‘And what does that mean? Perhaps we’re more like human beings? Perhaps we’re right? But let’s not get into those arguments, there’s no end to them. I repeat what I have said before. We honour the Treaty. And we often observe it far more closely than the forces of the Light.’
A standard tactic in an argument. First admit to some kind of generalised guilt. Then gently reproach your opponent for being equally guilty of the same general kind of fault. Reproach them a bit and then drop it. Let’s just forget the whole thing!
And then move on to what’s really important.
‘But, let’s deal with what’s really important here,’ said Zabulon, getting serious. ‘There’s no point in beating about the bush. In the last hundred years the forces of the Light have launched three global experiments. The revolution in Russia. The Second World War. And now this new project. Following the same scenario.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said. I suddenly had this desperate aching feeling in my chest.
‘Really? Let me explain. Social models are developed that should eventually – at the cost of massive upheaval and immense bloodshed – bring humanity to the ideal society. Ideal, that is, from your point of view, but I won’t argue about that. Certainly not. Everyone has a right to his own dream. But your path is so very cruel …’ Another sad smile. ‘You accuse us of cruelty, and not entirely without reason, but what’s one child killed in a black mass compared with any fascist children’s concentration camp? And fascism was another of your inventions. Another one that got out of control. First there was internationalism and communism – that didn’t work. Then there was national socialism. Another mistake? You put your heads together and examined the result. Then you sighed, wiped the slates clean and started experimenting all over again.’
‘They turned out to be mistakes thanks to your efforts.’
‘Of course! We do have an instinct for self-preservation, you know. We don’t construct social models on the basis of our ethics. So why should we tolerate your projects?’
I didn’t say anything.
Zabulon nodded, apparently satisfied.
‘So you see, Anton. Maybe we’re enemies. We are enemies. Last winter you caused us some inconvenience, serious inconvenience. This spring you frustrated me again. You eliminated two Day Watch agents. Yes, of course, the Inquisition declared that your actions were committed in self-defence and out of absolute necessity but, believe me, I was not pleased. What kind of leader is it who can’t even protect his own colleagues? So, we are enemies. But now we have a unique situation. Yet another experiment. And you’re indirectly involved in it.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Zabulon laughed and raised his hands in the air.
‘Anton, I’m not trying to coax any secrets out of you. I’m not going to ask any questions. Or ask you to do anything. Just listen to what I have to say. And then I’ll go.’
I suddenly remembered how the young witch Alisa had used her right to intervene up on the high-rise roof the previous winter. A very minor intervention – all she did was allow me to speak the truth. And that truth had turned Egor over to the side of the Dark Ones.
Why did things happen that way?
Why was it that the Light acted through lies, and the Dark acted through the truth? Why was it that our truth proved powerless, but lies were effective? And why was the Dark able to manage perfectly well with the truth in order to do Evil? Whose nature was responsible, humankind’s or ours?
‘Svetlana’s a wonderful sorceress,’ said Zabulon. ‘But her future is not to lead the Night Watch. They intend to use her for just one single purpose. For the mission that Olga failed to complete. You know, don’t you, that a courier from Samarkand entered the city illegally this morning?’
‘Yes, I know,’ I admitted, without really knowing why.
‘And I can tell you what he brought with him. Would you like to know?’
I gritted my teeth.
‘You would,’ said Zabulon, with a nod. ‘The courier brought a piece of chalk.’
Never believe what the Dark Ones say. But somehow I got the feeling he wasn’t lying.
‘A little piece of chalk.’ The Dark Magician smiled. ‘You could write on a school blackboard with it. Or draw hopscotch squares on the pavement. Or chalk your pool cue with it. You could do all that, just as easily as you could use a large royal seal to crack nuts. But things change if a Great Sorceress picks up that piece of chalk – it has to be a Great One, an ordinary sorceress wouldn’t be powerful enough, and it has to be a sorceress, in male hands the chalk remains nothing but chalk. And in addition to that the sorceress has to be a Light One. This artefact is useless for Dark Ones.’
Did I imagine it, or had he just sighed? I said nothing.
‘A small piece of chalk.’ Zabulon leaned back in his armchair. ‘It’s already worn down, beautiful young women with bright fire in their eyes have picked it up in their slim fingers several times already. It has been put to use, and the earth has trembled, the boundaries of states have melted away, empires have risen, shepherds have become prophets and carpenters have become gods, foundlings have been recognised as kings, sergeants have risen to become emperors, seminarians who failed to graduate and talentless artists have become tyrants. A little stub of chalk. Nothing more than that.’
Zabulon stood and spread his hands in a conclusive gesture.
‘And that’s all I wanted to tell you, my dear enemy. You’ll understand the rest for yourself – if you really want to, that is.’
‘Zabulon.’ I unclenched my fist and looked at the amulet. ‘You’re a creature of the Dark.’
‘Of course. But only of the darkness that was in me. The darkness that I chose myself.’
‘Even your truth works Evil.’
‘To whom? The Night Watch? Of course. But to humans? There I must beg to differ.’
He walked towards the door.
‘Zabulon,’ I said, calling him by name again. ‘I’ve seen your true appearance. I know who you are and what you are.’
The Dark Magician stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned round and passed his hand over his face – for a moment it was distorted, the skin was replaced by dull scales and the eyes became narrow slits.
Then the illusion was dispersed.
‘Yes. Of course you’ve seen it,’ said Zabulon, in his human form once again. ‘And I have seen you. And let me say that you were no white angel with a gleaming sword. Everything depends on the point you look from. Goodbye, Anton. Believe me, I shall be glad to eliminate you some time in the future. But for now I wish you good luck. From the depths of the soul that I don’t have.’
The door slammed behind him.
And immediately, as if it had just woken up, the sentry system howled out of the Twilight. The mask of Chkhoen on the wall twisted into a ferocious scowl, with fury glinting in the wooden gashes of its eyes.
My security guards …
I silenced the system with two passes and hurled the freeze that I’d prepared at the mask. The spell had come in useful after all.
‘A little piece of chalk,’ I said.
I’d heard something like that before. But it was a very long time ago, and I hadn’t really been paying attention. It could have been a few phrases thrown out by one of my tutors at a lecture, or idle social gossip, or a student myth. But there definitely had been something about a piece of chalk …
I got up off the sofa, raised my hand in the air and threw the amulet on to the floor.
‘Gesar!’ I called through the Twilight. ‘Gesar, answer me!’
My shadow shot up towards me from the floor, took hold of my body and sucked me into itself. The light dimmed, the room swayed, the outlines of the furniture blurred. It was suddenly unbearably quiet. The heat had receded. I stood there with my arms thrown out wide as the greedy Twilight drank my power.