The Twilight Watch (23 page)

He gazed insistently at me and I also held out my hand, and said:

'In the name of the Light . . .'

In part this was like the swearing of an oath between a Dark
One and a Light One. But only in part. No petal of flame sprang
up in my hand, no patch of darkness appeared on Edgar's open
palm. It all happened on the outside – the grey, blurred world
around us suddenly acquired clarity. No colours appeared, we were
still in the Twilight. But there were shadows. It was like a TV
screen with the colour turned right down, when you suddenly
turn up the brightness and contrast.

'Our right has been acknowledged . . .' Edgar whispered, gazing
around. His face looked genuinely happy. 'Our right has been
acknowledged, Anton!'

'And what if it hadn't been?' I asked cautiously.

'All sorts of things could have happened . . . But our right has
been acknowledged, hasn't it? Let's go!'

In the new 'high-contrast' Twilight it was much easier to move
around. I raised my shadow as easily as in the ordinary world.

And found myself where only magicians beyond classification
have any right to go.

The trees – if they really were trees – had disappeared. All around
us the world was as level and flat as the old medieval pancake Earth,
supported on the backs of three whales. Featureless terrain, an endless
plain of sand . . . I bent down and ran a handful of the sand through
my fingers. It was grey, as everything in the Twilight was supposed
to be. But there were embryonic colours discernible in its greyness
– smoky mother-of-pearl, coloured sparks, golden grains . . .

'She's got away,' Edgar said right in my ear. He stretched out
an arm that had become surprisingly long and slim.

I looked in that direction and saw a grey silhouette way off in
the distance, dashing away at great speed. I could only see the
witch because the plain was so flat, and she was moving in immense
leaps, soaring into the air and flying over the ground ten metres
at a time, throwing her arms out and moving her legs in a strange
way, like a happy child skipping across a meadow in spring.

'She must have drunk her own potion,' I guessed. I couldn't
think of any other way she could have leapt like that.

'Yes. She knew what she was doing when she brewed it,' said
Edgar. He swung his arm and flung something after Arina.

A string of balls of flame went hurtling after the witch. A group
fireball, a standard battle spell for the Watches But this was some
special Inquisitors' version.

A few charges burst before they reached the witch. One accelerated
sharply and reached her, touched her back and exploded,
shrouding the witch in fire. But the flames immediately went out
and, without even turning round, she tossed something behind
her, and a pool of liquid that glimmered like mercury spread out
at that spot. As they flew over the pool, the remaining charges lost
speed and height, plunged into the liquid and disappeared.

'Witches' tricks,' Edgar said in disgust. 'Anton!'

'Eh? What?' I asked, with my eyes still fixed on Arina as she
disappeared into the distance.

'Time for us to be going. The power was only granted in order
to catch the witch, and the hunt's over. We'll never catch up with
her.'

I looked upwards. The crimson cloud that had shone at the
previous level of the Twilight was gone. The entire sky glowed an
even pinkish-white colour.

How strange. Colours appeared again here . . .

'Edgar, are there any more levels?' I asked.

'There always are.' Edgar was clearly starting to feel worried.
'Come on, Anton! Come on, or we'll get stuck here.'

He was right, the world around us was already losing contrast,
wreathing itself in grey vapour. But the colours were still there –
the mother-of-pearl sand and the pinkish sky . . .

Already feeling the cold prickling of the Twilight on my skin,
I followed Edgar up to the third level. As if it had been waiting
for that moment, the world finally lost all its colour and became
grey space, filled with a cold, roaring wind. Holding each other's
hands – not in order to exchange power, which is almost impossible,
but in order to stay on our feet – we made several attempts
to return to the second level. The 'trees' on all sides were breaking
with a barely audible cracking sound, and the witch's bivouac
tumbled onto its side as we kept searching and searching for our
shadows. I don't even remember the moment when the Twilight
parted in front of me and allowed me back through into the
second level. It seemed almost normal, not frightening at all . . .

We sat there on the clean-scraped wooden floor, breathing heavily.
We were in an equally bad way, the Dark Inquisitor and the Light
Watchman.

'Here.' Edgar put his hand awkwardly into his pocket and brought
out a block of Guardsman chocolate. 'Eat that.'

'What about you?' I asked, tearing off the wrapper.

'I've got more.' Edgar rummaged in his pockets for a long time
and finally found another pack of chocolate – Inspiration this time.
He started unwrapping the fingers of chocolate one at a time.

We ate greedily. The Twilight draws the strength out of you –
and it's not just a matter of magical power, it even affects something
as basic as your blood sugar level. That's about all we've
managed to discover about the Twilight, using the methods of
modern science. Everything else is still as much of a mystery as
ever.

'Edgar, how many levels are there to the Twilight?'

He finished chewing another piece of chocolate and answered:

'I know of five. This is the first time I've been on the fourth.'

'And what's down there, on the fifth level?'

'All I know is that it exists, watchman. No more than that. I
didn't even know anything about the fourth level, until now.'

'Colours came back there,' I said. 'It's . . . completely different.
Isn't it?'

'Uhuh,' Edgar mumbled. 'Different. That's not for us to worry
about, Anton. It's beyond our powers. You should be proud you've
been down to the fourth, not all first-grade magicians have gone
that deep.'

'But you can?'

'If needs be, in the line of duty,' Edgar admitted. 'After all, it's
not necessarily the most powerful who join the Inquisition. And
we have to be able to stand up to a crazy magician beyond classification,
right?'

'If Gesar or Zabulon ever go crazy, we won't be able to stand
up to them,' I said. 'We couldn't even manage the witch.'

Edgar thought for a moment and agreed that the Moscow
Office of the Inquisition wasn't really up to dealing with Gesar
and Zabulon. But only if they happened to violate the Treaty
simultaneously. Otherwise Gesar would be glad to help neutralise
Zabulon, and Zabulon would be glad to help neutralise Gesar.
That was the way the Inquisition worked.

'Now what do we do about the witch?' I asked.

'Look for her,' Edgar said briskly. 'I've already been in touch
with my people, they'll cordon off the district. Can I count on
your continued assistance?'

I thought for a moment.

'No, Edgar. Arina's a Dark One. Obviously she did do something
terrible . . . seventy-odd years ago. But if she was exploited
by Light Ones . . .'

'So you're going to carry on sticking to your own side,' Edgar
said in disgust. 'Anton, do you really not understand? There is no
Light or Dark in a pure sense. Your two watches are just like the
Democrats and Republicans in America. They quarrel, they argue,
but in the evening they hold cocktail parties together.'

'It's not evening yet.'

'It's always evening,' Edgar replied bleakly. 'Believe me, I was a
law-abiding Dark One. Until I was driven into . . . until I left the
Watch to join the Inquisition. And you know what I think now?'

'Tell me.'

'Power of night and power of day – same old nonsense anyway.
I don't see any difference between Zabulon and Gesar any more.
But I like you . . . as a human being. If you joined the Inquisition,
I'd be glad to work with you.'

I laughed:

'Trying to recruit me?'

'Yes, any watchman has the right to join the Inquisition. No
one has the right to hold you back. They don't even have a right
to try to change your mind.'

'Thanks, but I don't need to have my mind changed. I'm not
planning to join the Inquisition.'

Edgar groaned as he got up off the floor. He dusted down his
suit, although there wasn't a single speck of dust, or a crease,
anywhere on it.

'That suit of yours is enchanted,' I said.

'I just know how to wear it. And it's good material.' Edgar went
over to the bookcase, took out a book and leafed through it. Then
another, and another . . . He said enviously: 'What a library!
Narrowly specialised, but even so . . .'

'I thought
Fuaran
was here too,' I admitted.

Edgar just laughed.

'What are we going to do about the hut?' I asked.

'There, see – you're still thinking like my ally,' Edgar promptly
remarked. 'I'll put spells of protection and watchfulness on it, what
else? The experts will be here in two or three hours. They'll give
everything a thorough going-over. Shall we go?'

'Don't you feel like rummaging around a bit yourself?' I asked.

Edgar looked around carefully and said he didn't. That the little
house could be hiding lots of nasty surprises left by the cunning
witch. And that digging through the belongings of a witch beyond
classification was a job that could be dangerous for your health
. . . better leave it to those who had it in their job description.

I waited while Edgar put up several spells of watchfulness round
the hut – he didn't need any help. And we set off for the village.

The way back took a lot longer, as if some elusive magic that
had helped us find our way to the witch's house had disappeared.
Edgar was far more garrulous now – maybe my help had inclined
him to talk more freely?

He told me about his training, how he had been taught to use
Light power as well as Dark. And about the other Inquisition
trainees – they had included two Ukrainian Light Enchantresses,
a Hungarian werewolf, a Dutch magician and many different sorts
of Others. He said the rumours about the Inquisition's special
vaults overflowing with magical artefacts were greatly exaggerated:
there were plenty of artefacts, but most of them had lost
their magical power long ago and were no good for anything any
more. And he told me about the parties the trainees had organised
in their free time . . .

It was all very entertaining, but I knew perfectly well where
Edgar was headed. So I started recalling the years of my own
training with elaborate enthusiasm, bringing up various amusing
incidents from the history of the Night Watch, including Semyon's
historical tall tales . . .

Edgar sighed and I went quiet. In any case, we'd already reached
the edge of the forest. Edgar stopped.

'I'll wait for my colleagues,' he said. 'They should be here any
minute now. Even Witiezslav postponed his departure and promised
to call over.'

I wasn't in any great hurry to invite the Inquisitor back – especially
not along with a Higher Vampire. I nodded, but couldn't
help asking:

'How do you think everything's going to turn out?'

'I raised the alarm in time, so the witch can't leave this district,'
Edgar said guardedly. 'The trackers move in now, we'll check
everything and arrest Arina. Put her on trial. If you're needed,
you'll be called as a witness.'

I didn't completely share Edgar's optimism, but I nodded. He
should know better than me what the Inquisition was capable
of.

'And the werewolves?'

'That's the Night Watch's prerogative, right?' Edgar said, answering
a question with a question. 'If we come across them, we'll let you
know, but we won't make a special point of chasing them through
the forest. What makes you think they're still here anyway? Typical
city types, out in the countryside for a spot of hunting. You should
keep a closer eye on your clients, Anton.'

'Somehow I have the feeling they're still here,' I muttered. I
really did think so, although I couldn't explain why I was so sure.
There was no trace of them in the village . . . and werewolves
rarely spend more than twenty-four hours in their wolves' bodies.

'Check the nearby villages,' Edgar advised me. 'At least the one
the witch used to go to for her groceries. But really it's a waste
of time. After an unsuccessful hunt they just tuck their tails between
their legs and go into hiding. I know their type.'

I nodded – it was good advice, even though it was pretty basic.
I should have gone round the outlying areas straight away, rather
than trying to catch the toothless old witch. Some detective I was
– I'd got too interested in that book
Fuaran
. What I should do
was pay more attention to the routine, boring work. Preventive
measures were best, as they used to proclaim so correctly in Soviet
times.

'Good luck, Edgar,' I said.

'And good luck to you, Anton.' Edgar thought for a moment
and added: 'It's a strange situation that's come up – both Watches
are mixed up in this business with the witch. You pretty much
represent the interests of the Night Watch. I think that Zabulon
will send someone too . . . before the situation is resolved.'

I sighed. Things were going from bad to worse.

'I think I can guess who he'll send,' I said. 'Zabulon enjoys
causing me petty aggravation.'

'You ought to be glad he hasn't set his mind to serious aggravation,'
Edgar said dourly. 'But you'll have to put up with the petty
stuff. Nobody has the power to change another person's nature;
your friend is a Dark One and he'll die a Dark One.'

'Kostya's already dead. And he's not a person, he's a vampire.'

'What's the difference?' Edgar asked gloomily. He stuck his
hands into the pockets of those expensive trousers that he wore
so well and hunched his shoulders as he watched the red sun
sinking behind the horizon. 'It's all the same in this world, watchman
. . .'