The Twilight Watch (20 page)

The witch smirked. It was a strange kind of smirk, just like an
old woman's, and it looked unpleasant on that beautiful young face.

'I'll get by without the first-degree one way or another. If I
understand correctly, the limitations only apply to magic directed
against people?'

'Against people and Others,' I confirmed. 'You can do whatever
you like with yourself and inanimate objects.'

'Well, thanks for that, at least,' Arina said. 'You know, I'm sorry
I tried to enchant you, Light One. You don't seem too bad. Almost
like us.'

That dubious compliment made me cringe.

'One more question,' I said. 'Who were those werewolves?'

Arina paused. Then she asked:

'Why, has the law been changed?'

'What law?' I asked, trying to play the fool.

'The old law. A Dark One is not obliged to inform on a Dark
One. Or a Light One on a Light One . . .'

'There is such a law,' I admitted.

'Well then, you catch the werewolves yourself. They may be
bloodthirsty fools, but I won't give them away.'

She said it with firm confidence. I had nothing to pressure her
with – she hadn't assisted the werewolves, quite the reverse.

'As for the magical acts directed against me . . .' I thought for
a moment. 'Never mind, I forgive you for that.'

'Just like that?' the witch asked, surprised.

'Just like that. I'm pleased I was able to resist them.'

The witch snorted:

'You think you resisted them, all on your own? . . .Your wife's
an enchantress, I'm not blind. She put a spell on you so that no
woman could seduce you.'

'That's a lie,' I replied calmly.

'Yes, it is,' the witch admitted. 'Well done. Enchantment's got
nothing to do with it, it's just that you love her. Well, my best
wishes to your wife and daughter. If you happen to meet Zabulon,
tell him he always was an ass and still is.'

'With pleasure,' I promised. Well, good for the old witch! She
wasn't afraid to badmouth Zabulon. 'And what shall I tell Gesar?'

'I'm not sending him any greetings,' Arina said contemptuously.
'What business could a village idiot like me have with great
Tibetan magicians?'

I stood there, looking at this strange woman – so beautiful in
her human form, so repulsive in her true shape. A witch, a mighty
witch. But I couldn't say she was spiteful or malicious – she was
a jumble of just about everything.

'Don't you get miserable here on your own, Grandma?' I asked.

'Are you trying to insult me?'

'Not in the least. I have learned a few things, after all.'

Arina nodded, but didn't answer.

'You didn't want to seduce me at all, and you don't have any
physical desires left,' I went on. 'It's not the same for witches as
for enchantresses. You're an old woman and you feel like an old
woman, you couldn't give a damn about men. But then, you could
carry on as an old woman for another thousand years. So you
were only trying to seduce me for sport.'

In the blink of an eye Arina was transformed, changed into a
neat, clean old woman with ruddy cheeks and a slight stoop, bright,
lively eyes, a mouth with only a few teeth missing and tidily
arranged grey hair. She asked:

'Is that better?'

'Yes, I suppose so,' I said, feeling slightly disappointed. After all,
her previous form had been very attractive.

'I used to be like this . . . a hundred years ago,' said the witch.
'And I was the way you first saw me . . . once. I was so lovely at
sixteen. Ah, Light One, what a happy, beautiful girl I used to be!
Even if I was a witch . . . Do you know how and why we age?'

'I heard something about it once,' I admitted.

'It's the price for moving up in rank.' Once again she used the
old-fashioned word that had been displaced in recent years by the
term 'grade'. 'A witch can stay young in body. Only then you'll
be stuck on third rank for ever. We're more closely linked with
nature, and nature doesn't like falsehood. Do you understand?'

'I understand,' I said

Arina nodded:

'Well then, Light One . . . be glad that your wife's an enchantress.
You've dealt fairly with me, I won't deny that. Would a present
be all right?'

'No,' I said and shook my head. 'I'm on duty. And a present
from a witch . . .'

'I understand. I don't want to give
you
a present. It's for your
wife.'

That set me back. Arina hobbled spryly across to a trunk bound
with strips of iron, standing where there had been an ordinary
chest of drawers before, opened the lid and put her hands inside.
A moment later she came back to me, holding a small ivory comb.

'Take it, watchman. With no spite or dark intent, not for sorrow
or for care. Make me a shadow if I lie, may I be scattered in the
air.'

'What is it?' I asked.

'A wonder.' Arina furrowed her brow. 'What do they call them
nowadays . . . an artefact!'

'But what's it for?'

'Don't you have enough power to see?' Arina asked slyly. 'Your
wife will understand. And what do you want explanations for,
Light One? I'll just lie, and you'll believe me. You're not as powerful
as I am, you know that.'

I bit my tongue and said nothing. After all . . . I'd insulted her
a few times. And now I'd been given the answer I deserved.

'Take it, don't be afraid,' Arina repeated. 'Baba-Yaga might be
wicked, but she helps fine young heroes.'

What was my problem, really?

'It would be better if you handed over the werewolves,' I said,
taking the comb. 'I accept your present only as an intermediary,
and this gift does not impose any obligations on anyone.'

'A cunning young fellow,' Arina chuckled. 'But as for the wolves
. . . I'm sorry. You understand, I know you do. I won't give them
away. By the way, you can take the book. Borrow it, to check. You
have that right, don't you?'

It was only then I realised I was still holding
Fuaran: fantasy or
fact
? in my left hand.

'For expert examination, temporarily, within the terms of my
rights as a watchman,' I said glumly.

The old harridan could lead me by the nose. If she hadn't
wanted me to, I wouldn't have noticed the book I'd accidentally
stolen until I got home. She would have had a perfect right to
complain to the Watches about the theft of a valuable 'wonder'.

When I left the house, I saw the night was already pitch-black.
And I had at least two or three hours of staggering through the
forest ahead of me.

But the moment I stepped down from the porch, a ghostly blue
light appeared in the air ahead of me. I sighed and looked back
at the little house, with electric light glowing brightly in its
windows. Arina hadn't come out to show me the way – but the
blue light danced invitingly in the air.

I followed it.

Five minutes later I heard the lazy yapping of dogs.

And just ten minutes after that, I reached the outskirts of the
village.

The most annoying thing about it all was that not once in all
that time did I sense the slightest trace of magic.

T
HE CAR IN
the barn had been returned to its former appearance.
But I didn't dare get into the driving seat to check how the
diesel engine had survived its long ordeal at the hands of the farm
mechanics. I walked quietly through into the house and listened
– my mother-in-law was already asleep in her room, but there
was the faint glow of a night light in ours.

I opened the door and went in.

'Did everything go all right?' Svetlana asked. The way she asked,
it was hardly even a question. She could sense everything perfectly
well without words.

'Pretty much,' I said and nodded. I looked at Nadiushka's little
bed – our daughter was fast asleep. 'I didn't find the werewolves.
But I had a talk with the witch.'

'Tell me about it,' said Svetlana. She was sitting on the bed in
her nightdress, with a thick book lying beside her –
The
Moomintrolls
. Either she'd been reading to Nadya, who would listen
to anything as she was falling asleep, even a list of building materials,
as long as it was read by her mother. Or she'd decided to
relax in bed herself with a good book.

I took my shoes off, got undressed and lay down beside her.
And started telling her everything.

Svetlana frowned a few times. And smiled a few times. But when
I repeated the witch's words about my wife putting a spell on me,
she was genuinely upset.

'I never did!' she exclaimed in a trembling voice. 'Ask Gesar
. . . He can see all my spells . . . I never even thought about doing
anything of the sort!'

'I know,' I reassured her. 'The witch admitted it was a lie.'

'Actually . . . I did think about it,' Svetlana said suddenly, with
a laugh. 'You can't help thinking things . . . but it was just a silly
idea, nothing serious. When Olga and I were talking about men,
a long time ago . . .'

'Do you miss the Watch?' I couldn't help asking.

'Yes,' Svetlana admitted. 'But let's not talk about that . . .Well
done, Anton! You got to the third level of the Twilight?'

I nodded.

'First-grade power . . .' Svetlana said uncertainly.

'No, I know my limits,' I objected. 'Second. Honest second
grade. That's my ceiling. Let's not talk about that either, okay?'

'All right, let's talk about the witch,' Svetlana said with a smile.
'So she went into hibernation? I've heard of that, but it's still very
rare. You could write an article about it.'

'Who for? A newspaper?
Arguments and Facts
? A witch has been
discovered who slept for sixty years in the forest outside Moscow?'

'For the Night Watch information bulletin,' Svetlana suggested.
'Anyway, we really ought to put out our own newspaper. It would
have to be a different text for normal people . . . anything you
like. Something narrowly specialised.
The Russian Aquarium Herald
,
say. How to breed cyclids and set up an aquarium with flowing
water in your apartment.'

'How do you know about things like that?' I asked in amazement,
and then stopped short. I remembered that her first husband,
whom I'd never even seen, was a big fan of aquariums.

'I just happened to remember,' Svetlana said, frowning. 'But any
Other, even a pretty feeble one, has to be able to see the real text.'

'I've already thought of the first headline,' I said.

We both smiled.

'Show me that "artefact",' Svetlana said.

I reached across to my clothes and took out the comb, wrapped
in a handkerchief.

'I can't see any magic in it,' I admitted.

Svetlana held the comb in her hands for a while.

'Well?' I asked. 'What should we do? Throw it over one shoulder,
then wait for a forest to spring up?'

'You're not supposed to see anything,' said Svetlana, smiling.
'And it's not a matter of power, the witch was just making fun of
you. Maybe even Gesar wouldn't see anything . . . it's not for men.'

She raised the comb to her hair and began combing it smoothly
and gently. She said casually:

'Just imagine . . . it's summer, hot, you're tired, you didn't sleep
last night, you've been working all day . . . But you've just had a
swim in cool water, someone's given you a massage, you've had a
good meal and a glass of fine wine. And now you're feeling much
better . . .'

'It improves the mood?' I guessed. 'Counters fatigue?'

'Exclusively for women,' Svetlana replied. 'It's old, at least
three hundred years old. It must have been a present from some
powerful magician to a woman he loved. Perhaps even a human
woman . . .'

She looked at me and her eyes were glowing. She said in a soft
voice:

'And it's supposed to make a woman attractive. Irresistible.
Alluring. Does it work?'

I looked at her for a second – then glanced at the night light
and put it out.

Svetlana herself erected the magic canopy that deadens all sound.

I woke up early in the morning, before five. But to my amazement,
I felt perfectly fresh – just like some woman who owns a
magic comb and has combed her hair to her heart's content. I
was in the mood for great deeds. And a good solid breakfast.

I didn't wake anyone, just rummaged about in the kitchen, broke
a couple of pieces off a long loaf of bread and found a small plastic
bag of sliced salami. I filled a large mug with home-made kvass
and took everything outside.

It was light already, but the village was quiet and still. There
was no one hurrying to the morning milking – the cowsheds had
stood empty for five years already. No one was hurrying anywhere
at all . . .

I sighed and sat down on the grass under the apple tree that
had stopped bearing fruit a very, very long time ago. I ate the
huge sandwich and drank the kvass. And to complete my comfort,
I got the book
Fuaran
from the room – by magic, through the
window. I was hoping my mother-in-law was asleep and wouldn't
notice the levitating volume.

As I ate my second sandwich, I became increasingly engrossed
in reading.

It was truly fascinating!

At the time the book was written, they didn't have any of
those clever little words like 'genes' and 'mutations' and other
bits of biological wisdom that we try to use nowadays to explain
the nature of Others. So the team of witches who worked on
the book – there were five of them, but only their first names
were given – had used terms like 'affinity for sorcery' and
'change of nature'. One of the authors listed was Arina, some-thing
the witch had modestly failed to mention the day before.

First of all the learned witches discussed at length the very
nature of the Others. Their conclusion was that the 'affinity for
sorcery' existed inside every human. The level of this 'affinity' was
different for everyone. As a reference point one could take the
natural degree of magic dispersed throughout the world. If a person's
'affinity' was higher than the average global level, then he or she
would be a perfectly ordinary human being. He or she wouldn't
be able to enter the Twilight, and would only occasionally feel
anything strange, as a result of fluctuations in the natural level of
magic. But if a person's 'affinity' was
less intense
than that of the
surrounding world, he or she would be able to make use of the
Twilight.

It all sounded pretty strange. I'd always thought of Others as
individuals with strongly developed magical abilities. But the point
of view expressed here was the exact opposite of that.

In fact, the following amusing comparison was used as an
example: say the temperature throughout the entire world is
thirty-six point five degrees. Then most people with a body
temperature higher than that will radiate heat outwards and
'warm up nature'. But the small number of people who have a
body temperature lower than thirty-six point five will start
absorbing heat. And since they receive a constant influx of power,
they will be able to make use of it, while people with far warmer
temperatures carry on aimlessly 'heating nature'.

An interesting theory. I'd read several other attempts to explain
how we came to be different from ordinary people. But I'd never
come across one like this. There was something almost offensive
about it.

But what difference did it make? The result was still the same.
There were people, and there were Others . . .

I carried on reading.

The second chapter was devoted to the differences between
'magicians and enchantresses' and 'witches and wizards'. Back then,
apparently, they didn't use the term 'wizard' for Dark Magicians,
but only for 'witches of the male sex' – Others who habitually
make use of artefacts. It was an interesting article, and I got the
feeling it had been written by Arina herself. Essentially it all came
down to the fact that there was no real difference. An enchantress
operated directly with the Twilight, pumping power out of it to
perform certain magical actions. A witch first created certain
'charms' that accumulated Twilight power and were capable of
working independently for a long time. Enchantresses and magicians
had the advantage of not needing any contrivances – no
staffs or rings, books or amulets. Witches and wizards had the
advantage that, once they had created a successful artefact, they
could use it to accumulate immense reserves of power, which it
would be very difficult to draw out of the Twilight instantaneously.
The conclusion was obvious, and Arina expressed it in so many
words: a rational magician would never despise artefacts, and an
intelligent wizard would try to learn to work with the Twilight
directly. In the author's opinion, 'in a hundred years' time we shall
see that even the greatest and most arrogant magicians will not
disdain the use of amulets, and even the most orthodox of witches
will not regard it as detrimental to enter the Twilight'.

Well, that prediction had come true to the very letter. Most of
the Night Watch staff were magicians. But we made regular use
of artefacts . . .

I went into the kitchen, made myself another couple of sandwiches
and poured myself some kvass. I looked at the clock – six
in the morning. Dogs had begun barking somewhere, but the
village still hadn't woken up.

The third chapter dealt with the numerous attempts made by
Others to turn a human being into an Other (as a rule, Others
had been motivated by love or greed) and attempts by human
beings who had learned the truth in one way or another to
become Others.

There was a detailed analysis of the story of Gilles de Retz,
Joan of Arc's sword-bearer. Joan was a very weak Dark Other, 'a
witch of the seventh rank', which, by the way, did not prevent
her from performing deeds that were, for the most part, noble.
Joan's death was described in very vague terms, there was even a
hint that she might have averted the inquisitors' eyes and escaped
from her pyre. I decided that was pretty doubtful: Joan had violated
the Treaty by using her magic to interfere in human affairs, so our
Inquisition would have been keeping an eye on her execution too.
There was no way you could avert their eyes . . . But the story
of that poor devil Gilles de Retz was described in much greater
detail. Either out of love or sheer scatterbrain foolishness, Joan told
him all about the nature of the Others. And the young knight, so
famous for his noble courage and chivalry, totally lost it. He
decided that magical Power could be taken from ordinary people
– young, healthy people. All you had to do was torture them,
become a cannibal and appeal to the Dark powers for help . . .
In effect, the man decided to become a Dark Other. And he
tortured several hundred women and children to death, for which
(as well as the offence of not paying his taxes), he was eventually
burned at the stake too.

It was clear from the text that even the witches didn't approve
of that kind of behaviour. There were scathing attacks on the blabbermouth
Joan and unflattering epithets applied to her crazy sword-bearer.
The conclusion was presented in dry, academic terms –
there was no way to use the 'affinity for sorcery' possessed by ordinary
people to transform anyone into an Other. After all, an Other
was distinguished, not by an elevated level of this 'affinity' that the
bloodthirsty Gilles de Retz, in his foolishnness, had tried to increase,
but by a lower level. And so all of his murderous experiments had
only made him more and more human . . .

It sounded rather convincing. I scratched the back of my head.
So . . . it turned out that I was far less gifted for magic than the
hopeless alcoholic Kolya? And only thanks to that lack of ability
was I able to make use of the Twilight? Well, try to figure that
out.

And Svetlana, it turned out, had an even lower level of 'affinity'?

And theoretically Nadiushka had no gift for magic at all? And
that was why the power simply flooded into her the way it did
– here, take it and use it?

Oh, those witches, they were really smart!

The next chapter discussed whether it was possible to raise the
level of Power in nature, so that a larger number of people would
become Others. The conclusion was disappointing – it wasn't
possible. After all, Power was not only used by Others, who in
principle could refrain from magical actions temporarily. Power
was also gleefully consumed by blue moss, the only plant known
to live at the first level of the Twilight. If there was more Power,
the twilight moss would grow more abundantly . . . And there
might be other consumers of Power at the deeper levels of the
Twilight . . . So the level of Power was a constant – I laughed out
loud at finding that word in the archaic book.

All this was followed by the actual story of the book
Fuaran
.
The title was derived from the name of an ancient eastern witch
who wanted desperately to turn her daughter into an Other. The
witch experimented for a long time – first she went down the
same path as Gilles de Retz, then she realised her mistake and
began trying to increase the level of Power in nature. In fact, she
followed every false trail, and eventually realised that she needed
to 'reduce her daughter's affinity for sorcery'. According to the
rumours, her attempts to do this were recorded in
Fuaran
. The
situation was complicated by the fact that in those times the nature
of the 'affinity' was unknown – but then it wasn't known at the
time this book was written either, and the situation still hadn't
changed today. Nonetheless, through a process of trial and error,
the witch succeeded in turning her daughter into an Other!